


and time yet for a hundred indecisions

by kyleworthington (lairdofthelochs)



Series: 'and time yet for a hundred indecisions' verse [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:32:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1581788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lairdofthelochs/pseuds/kyleworthington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chanyeol wakes up and finds himself in an alternate universe where he’s married to Kyungsoo – except that he’s never met the man before in his life, and he is absolutely, positively, 100% sure that he is straight. Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Tedious Argument

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Wrong Trouser-Leg of Time](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/48809) by kathkin. 



> Title taken from a line in T.S Eliot's poem, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.

Chanyeol rubs his eyes groggily and groans, yawning as he stretches his arms above his head. He doesn’t want to wake up, although he knows that he has to. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know that it is already morning, because he could feel the warmth of the sun blazing through the window.

Except that it’s  _not_  his window.

He realizes this as soon as he opens his eyes, as soon as he sits up against the head board and gasps in alarming alacrity – because this isn’t even his bed. This isn’t his room. “How much did I have to drink last night?” he mumbles to himself, before he peers at the other side of the king-sized bed.

_Did I get so wasted that I couldn’t even remember if I got laid?_

Chanyeol gently pulls down the duvet to take a look at the girl sleeping beside him, before he stops completely and backs away in utter shock.

It’s a  _guy._

_What the fuck?_

Alarm bells start ringing in Chanyeol’s head, because a) he definitely did not go out for drinks last night, and b) he’s positively  _straight._

“Um,” Chanyeol nudges the sleeping figure on the shoulder, “I’m sorry,” he says, “—but I need to go home.”

The man rolls sleepily to lie on his back, and for the first time Chanyeol sees his face. He opens his eyes in tiny slits to squint at Chanyeol, his lips curled up in what Chanyeol thinks looks like amusement.

 _Nope,_  Chanyeol thinks.  _Doesn’t look familiar._

 _“_ But you  _are_  home,” the man mumbles drowsily, before letting out a low chuckle.

 _No, I’m not – and you’re crazy,_  Chanyeol wants to say, but he bites the insides of his cheeks instead – and remains silent, remains unperturbed when the other man sits up before pushing Chanyeol back down to his side of the bed – and all the words he has wanted to say disappears when the man takes Chanyeol in his mouth; knows exactly how Chanyeol likes to be touched.

And as Chanyeol relaxes to the other man’s ministration, his eyes flutter shut in contentment and eventually, sheer ecstasy, and he thinks—  _this is a strange dream._

A strange,  _wonderful_  dream.

\--

He wakes up an hour later to the smell of bacon and eggs, which was absolutely amazing in the first instance – but Chanyeol becomes horrified when he realizes that he is still in the same bedroom he has woken up in previously.

Not a dream, then, he thinks – panicking, as he lifts off the duvet and finds the crusted stains of his semen on the fabric, but the other man is nowhere to be seen. Chanyeol jumps off the bed and tries to find his pants, before tiptoeing quietly towards what he thinks is the kitchen.

It’s all planned out in his head. He will try to remain calm, he will politely say his greetings to this male stranger who has somehow brought Chanyeol back to his apartment last night, and then he will scamper off.  _This is not my home,_ Chanyeol thinks as he steps out of the bedroom awkwardly, and finds himself in the living room, where his nightmares are apparently made of.

He discovers a framed photo of himself – and he thinks,  _I’ve got a stalker,_  before his eyes latch on  _another_  framed photo of himself, and another, and  _another_  – but the tragedy is that he does not remember having them taken at all. And then there’s a larger framed photo of him and the stranger, and they look happy – as if they’re in love, arms wrapped around each other. Another photo has Chanyeol kissing the other man on the cheeks, and the background looks like they were somewhere in Europe. Chanyeol swears to God he’s never been to Europe, much alone outside of Korea –  _this must be photoshopped,_  he thinks, before he stumbles upon another photo of him and his closest friends – Baekhyun, Jongin, Sehun – and the stranger is in it, too. In fact, there is even a photo of the stranger with Chanyeol’s family, and he feels like screaming, ‘WHEN DID THIS ALL HAPPEN???’ but he couldn’t – as if his vocal chords have been twisted and his stomach has been pulled up to his throat.

“Hey, you’re awake!” Chanyeol hears from behind, and he turns to find the stranger wearing an apron and a bright, lovely smile. “I’ve made breakfast.”

“Who—who are you?” he stammers.

“Um,” the man begins, an amused expression etched on his face, “I’m…Kyungsoo?”

“Right,” Chanyeol says, his nostrils flaring. He runs a hand agitatedly in his hair. “And how did I get here?”

Chanyeol’s apparent distress must have been strikingly evident, because the man’s light-hearted expression has now changed to one of absolute concern. “Chanyeol, are you alright?”

“Why are there photos of me and you?” Chanyeol says, pointing at the framed photos on the table with a tremulous finger. “Together?”

The other man looks worried, looks at Chanyeol as if he has gone mad. “Because we’re…married?”

_Married?_

“Sorry—,” Chanyeol shakes his head fervently, “—but when did we get married?”

Chanyeol could hear the other man’s sharp intake of breath; the incredulous tone in his voice as he asks, “Is this a game?”

“Let’s pretend that it is a quiz. You could award yourself points if you want,” Chanyeol huffs in vexation. “When did we get married?”

“Two years ago,” the man says without missing a beat. Deadpan. Serious. “Baekhyun was your best man, Jongin was mine.”

“But I’ve never met you before! And as far as I’m concerned I’m not gay. Never have swung that way!” Chanyeol says exasperatedly, his voice going higher-pitched than he intended.

There is a flicker of hurt in the other man – no –  _Kyungsoo’s_  eyes, and Chanyeol feels a slight pang of guilt.

“Check your phone,” Kyungsoo orders him. He seems angry, although he doesn’t raise his voice. Chanyeol automatically pats his thighs and checks his pockets, because  _where the hell did I leave my phone?_

He still has the same phone, thankfully.

But the lock screen photo.

It’s Kyungsoo.

With trembling hands Chanyeol punches in his password, which still lets him access his phone – and he still has the same number, the same people in his contact list. But the photos – he doesn’t remember taking them, and the text messages – he doesn’t remember typing them. The latest text conversation was one that he apparently had with Kyungsoo last night, and Chanyeol had asked Kyungsoo to buy groceries from the food store on the way home.

“I’m not—,” Chanyeol begins, dropping the phone to the parquetted floor with a loud crack. He stumbles back, falling on his bum just as Kyungsoo tries to reach for him – and manages to grab Chanyeol’s hand, only to be pulled atop Chanyeol.

“Oww,” Kyungsoo groans, because Chanyeol has accidentally kicked him with his knee. He raises himself up, with Chanyeol still lying beneath him, and for a second they stare into each other’s eyes. Chanyeol doesn’t know what it is, but the rapid realization must have sunk in Kyungsoo’s mind, because he backs away immediately – as if in fear, as if Chanyeol is diseased and infectious, as if Chanyeol is a leper.

“You’re not  _him,_ ” Kyungsoo says, swallowing heavily. “You’re not— _Chanyeol._  Where is he?” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes widening in horror. “Who are you?”

“But I am!” Chanyeol screams in frustration. “I am Park Chanyeol!”

Kyungsoo has latched himself against the wall, as far away from Chanyeol as possible. He is about to open his mouth, to say something when the cracked phone vibrates noisily on the floor – _Baekhyun,_ it says – and Kyungsoo’s gaze flickers back and forth between Chanyeol and the phone, as if daring him to answer.

Chanyeol crawls towards the phone and picks it up, gulping anxiously before saying ‘Hello’ with a cracked voice.

“Hey, Chanyeol. You’re late! I thought you’re going to meet me at 10?”

Thankfully, Baekhyun still sounds the same on the phone. Loud and boisterous – but any source of familiarity is soothing to Chanyeol at present, given his situation. Chanyeol quickly glances at the wall clock and realizes that it’s already 10 past 10. “Um. Sorry. Something came up,” he says.

“Don’t tell me you’re still frolicking in bed with Kyungsoo, eh?” Baekhyun nudges him mischievously.

Chanyeol closes his eyes and winces.

_Not you too._

He feels like crying, but he couldn’t. He wants to scream to Baekhyun, “Help me!!” but all hope seems lost, now. Distractedly, Chanyeol replies, “No – but he’s making breakfast,” and Kyungsoo stares at him as if he is a vile creature. “I’m sorry. Where are we meeting again? I’ll try to be there in 10.”

“Your mom’s restaurant, of course. Where else?” Baekhyun quips. “You sound lost, Chanyeol. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yea—yeah,” Chanyeol nods. “I’ll be there. As soon as possible,” he reiterates, aware that Kyungsoo’s gaze is still burning his skin. It’s a miracle that Kyungsoo hasn’t stabbed him with a knife yet, given his omnipresent murderous stare. “See you in a bit,” he barks into the phone before hanging up.

“But you’re  _not_  him,” Kyungsoo echoes soullessly, as soon as Chanyeol puts his phone back in his pocket. As if chiding Chanyeol for pretending to be someone he’s not. As if egging Baekhyun on, making Baekhyun believe that Chanyeol is  _Chanyeol._  Kyungsoo’s wide eyes are brimming with tears that haven’t quite streamed down his face, his jaw clenched in sheer antagonism. He’s trying to hold it in, Chanyeol realizes.

“I need to go see Baekhyun,” Chanyeol explains apologetically. “I need to know—what’s going on. I’m sorry—Kyungsoo,” he says, “—that’s your name, isn’t it? I’m still Park Chanyeol, but I’m not your husband. And I don’t know why everyone thinks we’re together—,” he begins, before Kyungsoo angrily cuts him off.

“That’s because we  _are._ ”

“But from where I came from – I don’t even know you! And Baekhyun is one of the people that I know did exist in the other— _world,_ ” Chanyeol frowns, because he can’t believe he’s saying this – “—so I really need to see him.  _Please,_ ” he pleads earnestly.

Kyungsoo still seem tense – but his back visibly relaxes as he straightens himself up, before nodding in defeat. “I understand,” he says, brows knitted in apprehension.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol says. “Thank you so much,” he says again, before running past Kyungsoo towards the door, glances at the shoe rack and recognizes the pair of sneakers that he has worn yesterday. He is about to dash out when he hears Kyungsoo’s voice from behind him – “Keys,” he says; a gentle reminder, but spoken with utter dejection in his eyes.

Chanyeol pats himself again, absentmindedly. An automatic reflex.

“You always forget them,” Kyungsoo sniffles – his voice breaking. “They’re in the bowl next to the shoe rack.”

“Right. Thanks,” Chanyeol bows politely – if not awkwardly.

The door clicks shut just as Kyungsoo clasps a hand over his mouth— finally letting the tears fall freely, when he thinks that Chanyeol couldn’t see him.

“But you’re not  _him,_ ” Kyungsoo whispers to himself, in the desolated hallway.

_You’re not my Chanyeol._

_\--_

_to be continued..._

_\--_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short intro. 
> 
> I think this is going to be angsty. With fluff. Is that even possible? IDEK. 
> 
> *throws self down a cliff*


	2. Among Some Talk of You and Me

_“But you’re nothim,” Kyungsoo whispers to himself, in the desolated hallway._

_You’re not my Chanyeol._

_\--_

Chanyeol steps out of the apartment building only to realize that he has no idea where he is. He twirls around, looking for signs of familiarity.

He slaps his forehead and turns on his GPS, before realizing that he’s passed by this street; this area before – in the other world. But it’s not a place that he has frequented very often, or knows like the back of his hand. It seems that Kyungsoo and Chanyeol – _the other Chanyeol_ – have relocated to a nicer part of town, where young professionals live and the rent is sky-high. Never in a thousand years would Chanyeol imagine living here.

_It’s too posh._

When Chanyeol exits the corner, he finally recovers his sense of direction – he’s back in the main street, surrounded by landmarks that he recognizes, and exhales in relief. His eyes rove around wildly – everything still looks _normal_ ; there are no flying cars or kids wearing futuristic shiny clothes, the air doesn’t seem heavier or feel any different. Kim’s Restaurant is still over there, that shopping complex is just across the street, the Tube line is a few metres walk away.

Chanyeol takes the Purple Line heading towards his mom’s restaurant.

And he thinks, he’s only been there yesterday and had a large bowl of pesto pasta, before heading off to see Sehun and Jongin at the cinema to catch a movie. But obviously that hadn’t happened in this world. Judging from the text messages on his phone, Chanyeol last spoke to his mom last Tuesday, and is only going to meet Sehun tomorrow.

He begins to panic, because although his friends and family remain the same in this parallel world, their experiences and memories are different. What if their personalities are different, too? Judging from his short phone call with Baekhyun, it seems like his friend’s personality hasn’t changed one bit, though.

Chanyeol is hopeful.

When he arrives, his mom is sitting at one corner of the restaurant opposite Baekhyun. Chanyeol glances around the interior of the place, thinking it looks almost similar as the one from his world, but not quite. The walls are painted a different shade of white, the tables and chairs are of different make and models. Baekhyun sounds alarmed when he notices Chanyeol skulking towards them. “You look like a stranded highwayman or something, _hyung._ You look horrible. What happened?”

“Hi Baekhyun,” Chanyeol greets him gawkily, before turning to face his mom and embraces her tightly. He never knew how much he misses her until now. “Yes,” his mom says in concern, as she hugs Chanyeol back. “You look awful. Is everything alright?”

 _Everything’s fucked up,_ Chanyeol wants to say, but he clenches his jaw in order to stop himself from spilling the truth. “Everything’s great!” he grins toothily. “I just had a rough night, that’s all. Little sleep and what not,” he says, completely throwing them off the scent with a double entendre.

“Ugh, _hyung!_ Too much information!” Baekhyun flinches in jest. “If you look like this, I wonder how Kyungsoo looks like at home,” he says with a chuckle, nudging Chanyeol’s shoulder. Baekhyun seems less worried, now.

Chanyeol exhales – partly in relief, but also partly because he remembers how Kyungsoo has stared at him just seconds before he leaves the house. The memory pierces his mind like a thousand needles piercing his skin, and it hurts.

\--

His mom’s cooking hasn’t changed at all, Chanyeol thinks— as he eats with fervour, as if he hasn’t eaten in a month. He lets Baekhyun talk – and he’s comfortable this way, letting Baekhyun lead the conversation. Chanyeol has so much to ask Baekhyun – like how Chanyeol met Kyungsoo, or what Chanyeol does for a living here – but decides that for once, nodding vaguely and appreciatively at everything might be the best course of action.

Chanyeol is half-relieved-half-disappointed when Baehyun says that he has to go – “Well, you did say that you were going to meet me at 10 because I had to go and meet someone else at 12,” Baekhyun reminds him. Chanyeol merely blinks, before saying “Of course,” and waves a half-hearted goodbye at Baekhyun.

He finishes his meal and bids goodbye to his mother, before heading back home. He walks alone, and he realizes that even if he has family and friends here, they’re not the _right_ family and friends. Chanyeol figures, then, that he’s absolutely lost in a city he thought he’d known so well.

A stranger among friends.

\--

He returns home to find Kyungsoo sipping on a mug of coffee at the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry about my outburst earlier,” Kyungsoo says as Chanyeol takes a seat opposite him.

“No,” Chanyeol shakes his head. “I’m sorry—,” he says, before pausing mid-sentence.

_Sorry for what? For existing? For Kyungsoo’s loss?_

The apology is left hanging in the air – despite Kyungsoo’s waiting. Chanyeol glances at the kitchen counter instead— noticing that the breakfast from this morning have been left untouched; and he wonders if Kyungsoo has had something to eat.

“Did Baekhyun find out?” Kyungsoo asks when he realizes that Chanyeol isn’t going to finish his sentence, interrupting Chanyeol’s reverie.

“No.”

Kyungsoo frowns. “Hmm.”

“If he does, he hasn’t said anything.”

“Well. Knowing Baekhyun and his usual antics—,” Kyungsoo begins ponderingly—

“—he doesn’t know,” Chanyeol finishes the sentence for Kyungsoo, agreeing with the sentiment Kyungsoo is trying to convey.

“Hmm- _hmm,_ ” Kyungsoo nods contemplatively – a wry smile decorating his lips.

“Even my mom doesn’t recognize me,” Chanyeol says pensively.

Kyungsoo nearly chokes on his coffee. “Really?”

Chanyeol nods broodingly. “How did you know, though? That I’m not— _him?_ ” he asks.

“Oh—,” Kyungsoo tilts his head, gazing at Chanyeol through his eyelashes. “I just _know—_ ,” he says, but he doesn’t elaborate. Chanyeol wants to know _how_ Kyungsoo knows – but he’s afraid of the repercussions, should he ask. Kyungsoo’s been through a lot today—although he doesn’t express it through words. Chanyeol doesn’t want to push the wrong buttons when Kyungsoo already looks like he’s frayed at the ends – a tiny snap and he would break.

“So where do we go from here?” Chanyeol asks, instead. “I could leave if you want,” he offers, because he believes that the last thing Kyungsoo wants is to have an impostor living under one roof.

“You _can’t—_ ,” Kyungsoo says quickly, his hand reaching for Chanyeol’s – before he stops himself, balling his fists and pulls them down upon his lap. “You can’t _leave._ Not now, at least,” he says, his gaze downcast – in anguish, Chanyeol interprets.  “To the rest of them, you’re still my husband. We’ve got to maintain— _appearances,_ ” Kyungsoo says hesitatingly.

Kyungsoo has a point. Besides, where would Chanyeol go? He could potentially stay at his parents’ or even at Baekhyun’s, but what will they say? And what will he tell them?

‘Hi mom and dad, I’m your son but I’m not _actually_ your son because I’ve been sucked into a parallel world and I have no idea where your real son is’?

_They’re going to think that I’m insane._

Chanyeol checks the date on his phone and lets out an audible sigh. Kyungsoo studies him intently from across the table, giving him a judging glare. Chanyeol feels as though he has to explain himself. “It’s still the same date,” he points out. “The same year. But this— _world_ that you live in. It’s like a distorted reflection of the world where I’ve come from. It’s like – I’ve been sucked through some black hole and jumped between parallel worlds, or something,” Chanyeol says. “I’m not an astrophysicist – I can’t explain why or how it’s happened, but it _happened._ ”

_And I don’t even read sci-fi books. Watched enough films to come up with a plausible theory, though._

“I believe you,” Chanyeol hears Kyungsoo say; his voice deep and mournful. His expression remains impassive, but the way he blinks slowly at Chanyeol – the taller man couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath, because that gaze could _kill._

Chanyeol feels like he is going to drown in Kyungsoo’s eyes.

“Well,” Chanyeol gulps nervously, clearing his throat. “Thank you,” he furrows his brows.  “You’re—surprisingly _calm,_ ” he observes, between half-fear and half-admiration for the younger man sitting across him.

Kyungsoo rests his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together, before resting his chin upon his knuckles. “There’s no point being _dramatic_ about this, is there? It has already happened,” he says pensively. “So there’s a leak between our universes somewhere. Somehow you’ve entered a parallel world through a gap in space and time. So maybe some cosmic power is fucking with our lives. I _just_ —,” he huffs, “I just want to fix this. Help you get back home. And get my husband back,” he explains unwaveringly. “Wherever he is,” Kyungsoo adds, “—I _need_ to find him.”

 _He’s worried,_ Chanyeol thinks. _But he still appears stoical.  Ever the pragmatist._

“If I’m here, then maybe he’s there. In my world. Maybe we switched around. If I’d woken up in your bed this morning, then probably he’d waken up in mine,” Chanyeol hypothesizes.

“If that’s true—what do we do?” Kyungsoo leans forward and scrutinizes Chanyeol attentively.

Chanyeol rests his forehead on the table and groans in frustration. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’m not an astrophysicist.”

“Do I even exist in the world where you come from?” Kyungsoo asks, his eyes widening with genuine curiosity and interest.

Chanyeol is taken aback. “I don’t know. I’ve never met you before.”

“That’s reassuring,” Kyungsoo says sardonically, returning to his default deadpan expression.  “If it’s true that my Chanyeol in your world, then he will be looking for me, too. Oh, God,” he continues, screwing his eyes shut – as if in pain.

 _He’ll be alone,_ Chanyeol realizes. _And he will be looking for Kyungsoo. And Kyungsoo will not be there._

Chanyeol tries to push the ugly thought away; his gaze flickers towards the photographs on the fridge, instead. “You guys look so happy,” he blurts out. “And I’m sorry, I’m just – curious, but I need to ask. Back where I come from, I’m still trying to make ends meet. I work as a waiter at my mom’s restaurant. But _this_ —,” Chanyeol looks around, “—this whole place. How could we possibly earn enough money to live here?”

Kyungsoo looks at him empathetically, before fiddling with the handle of his mug. “You’re a lyricist,” he says, enunciating each syllable to make them count. “You write songs for famous artists.”

Chanyeol gasps loudly – he even might have shrieked a pitch higher than he intended, but he definitely couldn’t believe his ears. “Really? But I’m just—,” he begins, before Kyungsoo cuts him off.

“A struggling rapper?”

“How did you know that?”

“You did work as a waiter at your mom’s restaurant, but you also took part in underground rap battles. That’s where you were discovered by this famous music producer, who initially wanted to sign you up under his record label,” Kyungsoo explains. “But you decided that becoming a recording artist didn’t really suit you; that you prefer to work behind the scenes. So you’re now a lyricist.”

“I’m—,” Chanyeol begins to say, but he is tongue-tied in shock.

_A lyricist._

“That has never happened in my world. I mean, I can rap, I write my own songs—but I’ve never—gained anything from it,” Chanyeol says, before his thoughts trail off again. “Wow. _Wow._ When did that happen?”

Kyungsoo covers his mouth to hide an honest, hearty chuckle—the corners of his eyes pulled up in tiny crinkles. It’s the first time that Chanyeol has seen him brighten up, after their initial confrontation and moments of edginess. “Two years ago,” Kyungsoo replies with a smile. “Before we were married. _Well—,_ ” he blushes. “You proposed to me right after the song you wrote became a hit and slaughtered the music charts,” he says.

Chanyeol’s gaze immediately falls on Kyungsoo’s left hand, where he is wearing a silver band around his ring finger. Kyungsoo’s gaze has dropped to Chanyeol’s left hand, too.

There is no ring.

Kyungsoo’s smile immediately fades.

\--

Kyungsoo shows Chanyeol his workspace, where his guitars and keyboard are kept, where his song writing equipment and computers are placed. Chanyeol is in awe. This is his dream, of having a soundproof office like this; where he could just immerse himself day in, day out – to create music. But it isn’t just the technology that transfixes him.

He crouches to open all of his guitar cases – and almost breaks into tears, when he realizes that he still owns the guitar his father had given him for his 20th birthday. “I have this guitar too,” Chanyeol points out, when Kyungsoo asks him what’s wrong. “Back in my world.”

Kyungsoo stands behind him and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “If you should know, that’s your— _no_ –," he pauses, "- _his_ favourite guitar. He never lets anyone else touch it.”

Chanyeol strums the guitar lightly, before putting things back where they belong. Kyungsoo goes to the computer and starts to scroll down a playlist of what Chanyeol assumes to be the songs he’d written, and clicks on one of them.

The song starts playing – and it’s not a song that Chanyeol has heard before. He steals furtive glances at Kyungsoo and the man has closed his eyes, as he lets his head sway along to the music. “You write such lovely songs,” Kyungsoo says – a contented smile touching his lips.

Chanyeol doesn’t remember writing it, but he thinks he could. Kyungsoo shows him his notebook where he scribbles his lyrics – and Chanyeol snorts, because he still writes it in the same notebook that he has at home. Some things haven’t changed, but Chanyeol flips through the song lyrics studiously and concludes that this Chanyeol – _Kyungsoo’s_ Chanyeol – writes better lyrics than he does.

And it isn’t obvious at first, but then Chanyeol realizes that most of the songs are written about Kyungsoo.

 _Damn,_ Chanyeol thinks, as he looks up from the notebook and catches Kyungsoo’s gaze. _Those big, round eyes._

Chanyeol feels suffocated; he has to loosen his collar and clear his throat. “Kyungsoo,” he takes a deep breath to muster courage, “How did I meet you?”

Kyungsoo crosses his arms, leans against the wall as he stands. “I’m a friend of Jongin’s. We met at the emergency department – because I had to pick you guys up,” he explains. “You were involved in some kind of a brawl at a nightclub, and you had small shards of glass cut into your forehead,” Kyungsoo points, “—and to your temple, the sides of your neck. Had to get stitches in them, as well. That’s how I knew, by the way – that you’re not _him_. Because you don’t have the scars.”

“You picked us all up?”

Kyungsoo snorts. “Because you guys don’t have cash and couldn’t get a cab home from the hospital, and I still happen to be awake at 3 a.m. to answer Jongin’s call.”

“Did we hit it off straight away?”

“God, no,” Kyungsoo shakes his head and wrinkles his nose. “You were dead drunk and I instantaneously had a really bad impression of you. You even threw up in my car.”

“Gosh,” Chanyeol splutters in increduility. “Sorry. I don’t sound like a nice person back then.”

“No need to apologise. It wasn’t you who threw up in my car, was it?” Kyungsoo shrugs. “If this makes you feel better,” Kyungsoo smiles, “—you seem like a nicer guy than what he was when I first met him.”

“Thanks,” Chanyeol sniffles sheepishly. “How did we become close?”

“I got you to clean my car. And then I don’t know why but – you carried your guitar with you that day, and you started singing – and I started singing too, and we sort of had a jamming session together—,” Kyungsoo says, his gaze directed intently towards the swirly patterns on the carpet, reminiscing of times long gone – only to be interrupted by Chanyeol’s sudden and eager curiosity.

“Wait,” Chanyeol says, reaching up for Kyungsoo’s wrist. “You could sing? You could sing too?”

“Oh, dear,” Kyungsoo starts to laugh, “—this feels like starting all over again.”

“Why?”

“That’s what you said to me. What _he_ said to me, I mean. He was surprised that I could hold a note, too. Oh, the déjà vu,” Kyungsoo says, as another blush starts to creep up, turning his cheeks beetroot red. “That’s how we clicked. Because you’d pick up your acoustic guitar and we’ll spend an hour or two, butchering cheesy love songs,” he elucidates ardently. Chanyeol can’t help but notice how Kyungsoo uses ‘he’ and ‘you’ interchangeably. “And I remember saying to you that I did not expect you to be classically trained in music – but then you were.  You don’t even look like you listen to cheesy love songs, but you do,” Kyungsoo reminisces. “Wait. Do _you_?”

Chanyeol purses his lips, trying hard not to break into giggles – because he _does._ Despite his rapping skills that are supposed to make him look like a badass. Some things just don’t change, even in parallel worlds. Chanyeol nods at Kyungsoo, covering his face to hide his embarrassed laughter. “Talk about first impressions, eh?” he quips.

Kyungsoo laughs too.

When the both of them have caught their breaths, Chanyeol asks Kyungsoo, “This might sound a little bit insensitive, but is it possible to be jealous of myself?”

Kyungsoo sends him a sharp, sideways glance. “Why would you be jealous of yourself?”

“He seems so much happier. His life – it all seems better than mine. Everything seems to be sorted out. He has someone who loves him. He has _you._ ”

“You don’t?” Kyungsoo queries.

Chanyeol straightens his back; quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t what?”

“Have a girlfriend?”

Chanyeol grits his teeth, thinking about the number of one-night stands and broken relationships he has had in the past. “Nope,” he says.

“And now you’re stuck with me,” Kyungsoo comments with a hint of self-deprecation – before he smiles at Chanyeol, and looks away sheepishly. Chanyeol notices the slight purse of Kyungsoo’s heart-shaped lips, and the way Kyungsoo blinks slowly, before the younger man casts another glance at Chanyeol again.

Kyungsoo becomes visibly embarrassed when he realizes that Chanyeol is still watching him.

“I’m starting to think that it’s not a bad thing after all,” Chanyeol says with a mischievous smirk. Trying to lighten the mood up – but inevitably fails.

Kyungsoo looks away again, this time with a sad smile etched at the corners of his lips, and a slight shake of his head. Chanyeol studies Kyungsoo in silence – and he finds it difficult to decipher this man, who is supposed to be his spouse. He knows, though, that Kyungsoo has a kind heart – otherwise Kyungsoo would have kicked him out of the flat.

 _I’m sorry, Kyungsoo,_ Chanyeol muses forlornly.

_I wish I could be him for you._

_\--_

_to be continued..._

_\--_


	3. Beneath the Music from a Farther Room

_I’m sorry, Kyungsoo,_  Chanyeol muses forlornly.

_I wish I could be him for you._

_\--_

In the days that Chanyeol lives with Kyungsoo, he learns  _many_  things.

Chanyeol learns that Kyungsoo is a brilliant cook and makes mean kimchi spaghetti, and he wouldn’t dare to mention this to his mom – except that she has  _already_  known this fact. Chanyeol learns that Kyungsoo works as a junior museum curator specialising in Joseon era artefacts, and spends most of his days looking at pots – if he’s not away on site excavating for new findings.

“Sometimes I find old, broken things more interesting than humans,” Kyungsoo says, and Chanyeol literally drops his jaw. “And I like piecing them back together – because even if it’s just a dumb-mouthed pot, I’ll still figure out its secrets; its history. It’s gratifying, in a way.” Kyungsoo tells Chanyeol solemnly, and the older man is mesmerised.

He learns that Kyungsoo has a  _beautiful_  voice – and the moment Kyungsoo opens his mouth after Chanyeol strums the opening chords of ‘Nothing on You’, he accidentally plucks on the wrong note and has to start again. Chanyeol is utterly flustered – he did not expect that soulful singing voice from Kyungsoo, given his perpetual poker faced façade. He makes singing look as effortless as Chanyeol on the drums, on the guitar, on the piano. Chanyeol asks him why he did not become a singer, and Kyungsoo merely shrugs.

Kyungsoo says he thinks he’s mediocre. He says he’s got a decent pipe, could hit the right notes, ad lib a little – but isn’t excellent at them. Chanyeol tries to convince him that it’s rubbish; that Kyungsoo is being unfairly humble – but Kyungsoo asserts that he’s happy to merely bob his head and hum along to songs as he plods along in the museum, _‘wiping dust off pots’_ , Kyungsoo jokes with a lopsided grin, instead of actually considering a singing career.

“Did Chanyeol –  _the other Chanyeol_  – offer you a singing contract, or something? Because you are amazing!” Chanyeol contends, and Kyungsoo purses his lips wryly.

“He did,” Kyungsoo replies – and for a second Chanyeol thinks that Kyungsoo has considered it once. “But  _nahh—_ ,” he waves it off nonchalantly, before heading off to get blankets and pillows for Chanyeol. “You don’t have to do this, you know?” he tells Chanyeol later, when the taller man insists on sleeping on the couch (despite the two-seater not being able to fit the entire length of his body). “You could take the bed and I could take the couch,” he says – “or we could even swap sleeping arrangements on different nights.”

Chanyeol stares at Kyungsoo and thinks that the younger man has something else to say – a different proposition in his mind – like  _‘or we could still share the bed’_ , but holds his tongue in case Chanyeol gets affronted. “I’m thankful enough that you’ve given me a shelter for the night. And hopefully for the coming nights, as well,” Chanyeol says. “To sleep on your bed.  _His_  bed. It would be disrespectful to you both.”

Kyungsoo nods silently, in understanding.

So Chanyeol sleeps on the sofa while Kyungsoo takes the entire bed for himself.

(And sometimes if he passes by the bedroom to go to the toilet, Chanyeol swears he could hear Kyungsoo sniffling – but he puts it down to the cold instead of Kyungsoo crying, because he really couldn’t handle the guilt of simply existing as  _Park Chanyeol_  – but not quite the  _right_  Park Chanyeol for Kyungsoo.)

\--

Often Chanyeol would wake up and finds Kyungsoo already at the kitchen, preparing breakfast and lunchboxes to take to the office. Kyungsoo would leave leftovers for Chanyeol in the fridge, with a message pasted on the fridge telling him, “Don’t forget to eat!” – with tiny doodles and smiley faces at the corner of the note, which never fails to make Chanyeol  smile.

Over the course of the next few days, Kyungsoo helps Chanyeol adjust – by explaining who’s who at Chanyeol’s workplace, pointing out Kyungsoo’s family members from their wedding photographs, introducing Chanyeol to their neighbours. Kyungsoo has even helped Chanyeol to budge phone calls from his bosses, who have asked Chanyeol about when the next lyrics and songs would be ready – and Chanyeol tells them that he’s currently on a sabbatical because he’s not feeling well.

Luckily Chanyeol was let off the hook pretty easily.

It’s been two weeks and no progress on Chanyeol’s research on how to get back to his own world. He flips through dozens of astrophysics textbooks and surfs the Internet for information about parallel worlds – even spending hours and hours watching episodes of Star Trek on DVD, only to be devastated in the end. It’s an endless routine of Kyungsoo going to work and Chanyeol staying at home to do research, but Kyungsoo would always come home only to find Chanyeol scratching his head over a physics equation he can’t quite fathom, or a sci-fi show switched on the television while Chanyeol softly snores on the couch out of weariness.

\--

It’s yet another day of being home alone, while Kyungsoo works with his pots at the museum. Chanyeol sits alone in his office, fiddling around with the high-tech equipment and musical instruments in the room. He notices a cabinet full of tapes, CDs and DVDs, before he notices something out of the ordinary, stacked above the tower of CDs.

He is ready to be surprised, but he definitely isn’t ready for this surprise. It is a videotape, as in a VHS tape to be played on a VCR player. Slapped onto the VHS cover is a sticker that reads, ‘Happy Birthday, Chanyeol’ and nothing else. Chanyeol is surprised to know that he actually owns an old-school VHS player, before inserting it into the machine and switches on the TV.

From the moment he clicks play, he has lost all things to expect. Chanyeol yelps when he watches herself onscreen, still in bed on a sleepy Sunday morning. The picture is deliriously grainy, and the sound is effectively edited out, because onscreen TV-Chanyeol is rousing, yawning and stretching but the sounds are muted. Except for the added New-Orleans-jazzy background track and a woman’s voice crooning about lost loves and crushed hopes, giving the whole thing a feel of an anachronistic 1920’s silent movie.

Chanyeol will ask Kyungsoo later about this— and Kyungsoo will tell him that it was shot on New Year’s Day, with Kyungsoo barging in with his brand new video camera that  _Chanyeol_ had bought for him – Kyungsoo was the one who took this footage. Kyungsoo had tugged on the sleeve of TV-Chanyeol’s arm and asked  _him_  to stay because this was meant to be funny.  _Chanyeol_ had stayed, and the first thing he said was –

_‘Kyungsoo.’_

The scene then cut to the wintry view taken from their flat’s windowsill, Baekhyun, Jongin and Sehun were out playing in the snow; and they were throwing snowballs at each other.

The sound is back on.  _Chanyeol_ is onscreen again, his face smiling up to the camera, his nose a little tad too Rudolph-y – and Kyungsoo will tell him that it’s because it was cold that day and he hadn’t felt very well. TV-Chanyeol had looked at Kyungsoo – not at the camera, but up at Kyungsoo, and he’d said his name again.

Chanyeol smiles as he watches the footage. He absentmindedly says Kyungsoo’s name – to no one in particular, to savour the way Kyungsoo’s name tastes on his tongue, as he stresses on every syllable. The sound of it lingers, entangled with the sound of Kyungsoo’s deep chuckles on the television.

 _‘Chanyeol,’_  TV-Kyungsoo said in return, and Chanyeol’s attention snaps back to the scenes onscreen.

The camera angle shifted to focus on Chanyeol’s bedside table. His lyrics notebook was on it; turned to a page of full of illegible lyrics. Chanyeol laughs as he watches the television and tries to read the handwriting, because he still scrawls like that. Chanyeol hears TV-Kyungsoo’s hearty laughter as he tried to decipher Chanyeol’s writing. The camera zoomed in on the handwriting before panning out again, and focused on Chanyeol’s face instead.

The video randomly cuts to a snowman Kyungsoo had built, then the grey skies, then some leafless pine trees. Chanyeol laughing, but not speaking. Kyungsoo in the kitchen making minced pie.

After several random scenes and snippets from Jean Cocteau’s movies thrown in transition,  _Chanyeol_  finally appeared again on screen.

“So Park Chanyeol- _sshi,_  tell the fans a bit about yourself,” Kyungsoo had inquired in an awful imitation of a TV presenter. The shot was purely  _Chanyeol,_  his boyish charms and the wrinkled folds at the corner of his eyes when he tipped his head back and laughed.

“Hi,” TV-Chanyeol blushed, “I’m Park Chanyeol,” he began sheepishly. He tugged at his hair, making them stand up in spikes. In this light, his black hair looked almost blue.

“How is married life treating you?” Kyungsoo had prodded.

“It is good,” he blinked into the camera as if asking Kyungsoo, ‘what do you want to know?’

Then he had reached out to touch Kyungsoo’s hand; Kyungsoo’s warm, milky-coloured skin against Chanyeol’s cold, trembling fingers. Chanyeol’s other hand had gently went to the camera, pulling it away from Kyungsoo – wobbly shots of the ceiling, their shoes, before the camera finally steadied – their entwined hands at Kyungsoo’s lap; tightly held together.

The last shot had Chanyeol leaning towards the camera, his hand presumably reaching down to switch the camera off.

But the next scene currently on TV was a different one. It was Kyungsoo, on the sofa, reading a book.

Le Petit Prince.

“ _On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux_ ,” Kyungsoo read out loud on screen, before he looked up at the camera and said, “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”

The stars, the night sky, the crescent moon, rain.

The ordinary special things humans tend to take for granted, Chanyeol thinks. Those are the still images that appear after Kyungsoo’s Saint-Exupery moment, before the sequence eventually leads to a flash of pastels whirled together with bright colours, of spring mixed with summer, of gentle flowers and fierce sunlight. Then TV-Kyungsoo is onscreen again, awake but still in bed – homage to the opening scene, perhaps?

This was taken on the first day of summer.

“Morning,  _husband,”_  TV-Kyungsoo told the man behind the camera.

Kyungsoo’s chest softly rose up and down with every breath he took, and the camera zoomed to his eyes, his nose, his lips, before it panned out again. Kyungsoo was Chanyeol’s focus in the frame, and nobody else. “G’morning, husband,” TV-Chanyeol had replied back, with a voice that could only suggest a bubbly, sparkly smile. “What would you like to tell the audience this morning?”

“I would like to tell the audience that...” TV-Kyungsoo paused, thinking, his voice still croaky and his mouth cottony from sleep. “I’m a huge fan of Park Chanyeol and I’d like to meet him in person,” he’d responded wittily.

It didn’t deter TV-Chanyeol from asking strange questions, though. “What would you tell him if you were to meet him in person then, huh?”

“I’m his number one fan?”

“Uh-uh....”

“I’ve listened to all the songs he has written and I love them?”

Chanyeol, who is sitting and watching the television snorted in amusement at TV-Kyungsoo’s answer onscreen.

“I love him.” Short reply from TV-Kyungsoo, one that was as determined as it was certain.

 “You love  _him_ ,” TV-Chanyeol said incredulously.

“I love  _him_ ,” TV-Kyungsoo admitted again, “but I love him more when he’s just plainly my husband.”

“Tell the audience that, then.”

“I love my husband, Park Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo said, with a perfectly straight face.

Chanyeol sucks in a deep breath as he watches Kyungsoo onscreen – because he feels as though the message is directed at him and not at  _the other Chanyeol._

_Is it possible to be jealous of myself?_

The last shot turned a shade of white; the end, like an overexposed film. The video whirs in the deck, filling the silence that has now enveloped the room. Chanyeol rubs his flushed cheeks, contemplating what to do next.

Chanyeol ends up picking up his phone and dials Kyungsoo’s number. He answers after the 5th ring. “Let’s go out tonight,” Chanyeol blurts out, despite the many other million things he has wanted to say. “I—,” Chanyeol pauses, “I don’t know what to do at home. I tried to write some songs, but I can’t. I just want—,” he gulps, “I want to see you.”

“Are you okay, Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo asks from the other end, his low baritone a soothing tone to Chanyeol’s ears.

“I  _don’t—_  I don’t know,” Chanyeol inhales sharply.

A slight shuffle sound from the other end, then: “Did something happen?” Kyungsoo asks.

“It’s just that— I stumbled upon the VHS tape of your birthday present to him and I—,” Chanyeol sighs, “I—watched it.”

A beat of silence, then another.

Then another.

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol sniffles, when Kyungsoo doesn’t reply. “I feel like I’ve invaded your personal space, like I’ve intruded into your private lives when I watched it. It’s strange because it’s me but it’s the  _wrong_  me. Like, I could imagine myself doing those things that he did but I just— _didn’t._ ”

“Thank you for being honest, Chanyeol.”

“Thank you for not hanging up on me yet,” Chanyeol says. He could hear a snort from Kyungsoo’s end.

“It’s okay, Chanyeol. I’m not mad at you,” Kyungsoo says – and Chanyeol could almost imagine Kyungsoo’s face as he utters the words. Expressionless. “You’re not traumatized for life, then?” Kyungsoo asks, with a hint of humour in his voice.

“No,” Chanyeol says, with a lopsided grin. “In fact, I like it. It’s  _weird,_  but I like it.”

“Thanks,” Kyungsoo replies. “I’m glad you did,” he says, as if he really means it. “Do you still want to go out tonight?”

“Do you?” Chanyeol grips his phone tighter.

“Yeah, sure,” Kyungsoo says unhesitatingly – and Chanyeol hangs up, realizing that he has just asked a guy out.

And for the first time in Chanyeol’s life he begins to doubt that he knows himself anymore.

\--

Chanyeol convinces himself that this isn’t a date, when Kyungsoo comes home and picks him up in the car and drives to the cinema. They end up watching an animated film in 3D, with dragons and warrior princesses and knights in shining armours, and Chanyeol learns that Kyungsoo looks good in 3D sunglasses. Chanyeol learns that Kyungsoo likes cheese sauce on his nachos; learns that his favourite film genre is sci-fi/fantasy.

“Which was why I accepted your theory about parallel worlds,” Kyungsoo says, after the film ends.

They start talking about their favourite things – and Chanyeol is surprised at how easy it is to get along with Kyungsoo, once he opens up. Kyungsoo looks happier, smiles brighter – to the point that Chanyeol has to stop looking just to avoid blushing.

They forsake expensive dinners at Michelin Star rated restaurants in favour of Chanyeol’s insistence that they should get takoyaki at the Apgujeong station – and Kyungsoo breaks into a huge, unexpected laughter. Apparently the other Chanyeol used to take Kyungsoo there, too – “Some things never change,” Kyungsoo says, gazing straight into Chanyeol’s eyes. He blinks slowly –  _once, twice,_  before his lips curve into a soft smile – and Chanyeol could easily imagine the other Chanyeol falling head-over-heels for Kyungsoo.

 _Not me, though. I’m straight,_  Chanyeol convinces himself.

_If Kyungsoo had been a girl, though—_

_No._

_What the hell am I thinking?_

\--

Chanyeol returns home with a heavy feeling in his heart, wondering if Kyungsoo has had a great time as much as he did. Kyungsoo doesn’t smile when he enters the house. Chanyeol switches on the light as Kyungsoo drops his keys into the bowl, takes off his shoes, cracks the bones in his neck and loosens his necktie.

“I really enjoyed spending time with you tonight,” Chanyeol says from behind Kyungsoo.

There is a slight surprise on Kyungsoo’s face, before his expression softens and nods with a courteous smile. “Me too, Chanyeol,” he says, before turning away again.

Chanyeol takes a step towards Kyungsoo – and the younger man doesn’t budge. He looks at Chanyeol’s chest – before raising his gaze slightly upwards, his lips slightly parted. Chanyeol lets out a sharp breath, before realizing that he has been staring at Kyungsoo’s plump lips – and denies the fact that he has imagined kissing Kyungsoo all night.

_Because it’s wrong._

“If I exist in the other world, do you think we’d be friends?” Kyungsoo asks, suddenly.

“We’d be best friends, for sure,” Chanyeol replies breathlessly.

“Even with our different personalities?”

Chanyeol nods. “We’d be  _soulmates,_  even with our different personalities.”

Kyungsoo laughs. “You’re funny, you know that?”

“I’m not even joking,” Chanyeol says – with the most serious expression he could muster. He’s not even smiling when he says it, and Kyungsoo quickly looks away, gulping.

Chanyeol takes another step towards Kyungsoo. Holds his hands.

_Soft._

Chanyeol wonders if Kyungsoo is soft all over, just like his expression, his hands, his gaze.

He pulls Kyungsoo into a gentle embrace; tries hard to be as gentlemanly as possible.  _This is only the first date,_  Chanyeol thinks – and he doesn’t want to scare Kyungsoo into thinking that he’s a pervert. He rests his chin upon Kyungsoo’s shoulder, and lets out a sigh when Kyungsoo tilts his head towards Chanyeol; his lips against Chanyeol’s ear.

They stand like that –  _unmoving_  – for at least a few minutes, the only sounds are the clock ticking and each other’s breathing – and Chanyeol has never felt this calm in his life. He traces circular patterns on Kyungsoo’s back, down his spine – and Kyungsoo begins to hum ‘Nothing on You’. They begin to sway along to Kyungsoo’s humming; their feet moving – and soon enough they are twirling in an impromptu slow dance – the only melody being Kyungsoo’s voice.

“After what’s happened to us,” Chanyeol whispers, “—do you still think that your pots are still more interesting than humans?”

“You’re interesting in a  _different_  way,” Kyungsoo replies, mumbling into the crook of Chanyeol’s neck. He has stopped humming, but they’re still moving unhurriedly, biding their time to whatever fate has got in store for them next.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Chanyeol says with a grin, pulling away slightly to take a look down at Kyungsoo.

It proves to be the wrong move to take, because Kyungsoo is staring at him again – and says, “You don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight, y’know? I promise I won’t try anything silly – but –  _yeah,_ ” he says, his cheeks turning beetroot red – “you’re welcome to sleep on the bed,” Kyungsoo tells Chanyeol.

Chanyeol’s hold on Kyungsoo inadvertently tightens.

Chanyeol says yes.

\--

Kyungsoo looks adorable in his white pyjamas; a pure contrast to Chanyeol in his black tank top and grey track suit. Chanyeol realizes how tiny Kyungsoo looks on his side of the bed –  _and how virginal_  – although Chanyeol knows that Kyungsoo is anything  _but_  virginal. Chanyeol has had first-hand experience of Kyungsoo’s amazing mouth on him – and he tries to clear the thought out of his mind as he climbs on his side of the bed, carefully separating at least one foot between him and Kyungsoo.

In fact, Chanyeol has stopped looking at Kyungsoo’s face altogether, and it helps.

“Good night, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says as he switches off the lamp on his bedside table.

“Good night, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol replies –

And he thinks, it’s true what Antoine de Saint-Exupery had written. _‘_ _It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.’ The other Chanyeol_  loves Kyungsoo with all his heart; he doesn’t even care that Kyungsoo is a man. Kyungsoo’s gender isn’t  _essential_  – but their love is, and it’s all that matters.

Chanyeol finds it endearingly beautiful.

It takes him another half an hour of staring at the ceiling in the dark, before he finally drifts off to sleep.

(And Kyungsoo didn’t sniffle that night). 

\--

_to be continued..._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: 
> 
> FANDOM HUG, EVERYONE. 
> 
> I couldn't even write after what happened, because I was reeling with shock. We'll get through this, won't we? We'll be okay, and the boys will be okay. Hopefully. 
> 
> Second of all: 
> 
> There's only a chapter to go. 
> 
> Third of all: 
> 
> We'll be okay, right guys? We will all be okay.


	4. Strength to Force the Moment to its Crisis

It _takes him another half an hour of staring at the ceiling in the dark, before he finally drifts off to sleep._

_(And Kyungsoo didn’t sniffle that night)._

\--

For the first time in weeks Chanyeol wakes up and finds Kyungsoo still sleeping next to him. He realizes that he has never seen Kyungsoo like this, sleeping peacefully -- so Chanyeol  _does_. It is reminiscent of the Kyungsoo that Chanyeol has watched in _the other Chanyeol’s_ birthday videotape; a half-awake Kyungsoo in bed – and Chanyeol wonders how Kyungsoo could switch from being incredibly angelic to an incarnation of the devil within seconds – but not that Chanyeol minds, anyway.

From this angle Kyungsoo looks like a small child, innocent, untainted. It makes Chanyeol feel that he wants to protect Kyungsoo, although he could almost imagine Kyungsoo’s reaction if Chanyeol were to tell him this. Kyungsoo would look at Chanyeol with his big, brown eyes, and he will tell Chanyeol that he doesn’t need protecting. Chanyeol knows that he is independent; diligent. But it doesn’t stop Chanyeol from teasing Kyungsoo, when he awakes and goes to prepare breakfast, tries to reach for a can of tinned fruit in the higher kitchen cabinets. Chanyeol smirks when Kyungsoo tiptoes, the can barely at the tips of his fingers – and Chanyeol saunters into the kitchen, easily reaching for the item and dares Kyungsoo to fight him for it.

Kyungsoo chases Chanyeol all over the flat, as the taller man raises both arms above his head; sure that he won’t ever be able to reach the canned fruit, and Chanyeol feels a pang of slight guilt of teasing Kyungsoo this way. But Chanyeol has undermined Kyungsoo’s talent at picking the right spot to hit him, because Kyungsoo has managed to catch his shirt. Kyungsoo pulls Chanyeol and struggles to reach for the can, before wrestling him on the floor, poking the sides of Chanyeol's waist; his arms, tickling him, before successfully straddling him -- causing Chanyeol to gasp in surprise. He witnesses the grin of delight on Kyungsoo’s face when Chanyeol’s grip on the canned fruit loosens; hears a ‘Gotcha!’ when Kyungsoo takes the can from Chanyeol – and Chanyeol tries hard to catch his breath, but it proves to be difficult when Kyungsoo still has that impish smirk painted on his lips.

A second, then two – and the smirk disappears, only to be replaced by a thoughtful purse of Kyungsoo’s lips, and an audible sigh. Kyungsoo blinks; closes his eyes for a moment. His clutch on Chanyeol’s shirt loosens, although Chanyeol is hyperaware of Kyungsoo’s warmth, and how physically close they are in this position. If Chanyeol squints, he could barely make out the tears welling up in Kyungsoo’s eyes. Then Kyungsoo sniffles, wrinkles his nose and looks away, before lifting himself off Chanyeol. His mask-like expression troubles Chanyeol, and he really wants to ask Kyungsoo if he’s alright – but Chanyeol is a coward, so he stays mum.

Chanyeol stands up and brushes invisible dust off his trousers, before pulling Kyungsoo into a hug. There are no words needed, and Chanyeol doesn’t want to provoke Kyungsoo. So Chanyeol smiles, and asks Kyungsoo if he wants to butcher more cheesy love songs after breakfast, and Kyungsoo says yes.

\--

Jamming sessions with Kyungsoo are the best, because that’s when Kyungsoo seems to be the happiest. Kyungsoo enjoys himself; immerses himself in the music – which makes Chanyeol wonder which one between them is the professed musician. Granted, Kyungsoo doesn’t play musical instruments, but his voice is a gift – a perfect accompaniment to Chanyeol’s guitar, piano, drums. And Chanyeol could clearly see now how Kyungsoo could easily become _the other Chanyeol’s_ muse, and it is Chanyeol’s turn to enjoy watching Kyungsoo close his eyes, swaying his head to the beat of the music. Listen to his soft hums, adding gorgeous ad libs that sound even more glorious than the original singer. It hits him that they complement each other – Chanyeol and Kyungsoo; how the music formed from Chanyeol’s instruments wouldn’t be complete until Kyungsoo sings. And it all feels natural; it feels that Chanyeol has done this all before, and when Kyungsoo is there it feels _effortless._

\--

Chanyeol has always been one to fit in right away with everybody, because he just seems to get along, to be genuinely interested in people not only for the sake of making small talk. He once talked to Jongin –  _Kyungsoo’s_ Jongin – and he tells Chanyeol that he’s always been scared of Kyungsoo, and it took him two months before they finally click. Apparently it only took a week in Chanyeol’s case, and Jongin wonders how Chanyeol does it. Chanyeol reminds Jongin that Kyungsoo used to have a horrendous first impression of himself, given how they met – and Chanyeol remembers what Kyungsoo has told him – that he’d picked Chanyeol up at the hospital, utterly drunk, throwing up in Kyungsoo’s car.

“Which is why it’s such a huge mystery to us all,” Jongin says. “On paper you two shouldn’t even be friends. But you being you, you just strut along a couple of days after the vomiting incident to wash his car, and you just hit it off straight away.”

Chanyeol shrugs uneasily.

“We’ve all wondered how you did it, you know? We’ve always known that you’ve always been this class clown, this extrovert with a constant sunny disposition, this happy virus – and somehow you’ve infected Kyungsoo, too,” Jongin continues.

“Is that a bad thing?” Chanyeol asks.

Jongin shakes his head. “It’s probably the best thing that has ever happened, Chanyeol. Kyungsoo’s still Kyungsoo, but I see that he’s so much happier when you’re around.”

Chanyeol learns that Kyungsoo is shy around people, although he will never admit this. An introvert who needs to recharge after a long day of social interaction. He learns that Kyungsoo changes his voice when he meets new people, and he finds this fact endearing. He wonders if Kyungsoo has changed his voice when he first met _the other Chanyeol_ , too.

Chanyeol wonders about many other things, like if _the other Chanyeol_ has always been gay – and Baekhyun informs him that everyone has been surprised when Chanyeol announced that he is dating Kyungsoo – because he has never shown any inclination towards men before. When Chanyeol brings up the subject to Kyungoo, he covers his face in embarrassment, because he hasn’t expected it either. “We were just lads,” he says. “You always come round for sleepovers, and you always annoy me by calling my name hundreds of times at bedtime, checking if I’ve gone to sleep. We do stuff that boys do – we played Nintendo and go to games arcades and play paintball with rest of the gang. Watched really funny, really bad porn together and laughed at the bad lines and wooden acting instead of jerking off to them,” he tells Chanyeol, and Chanyeol breaks into an enormous laughter.

Baekhyun confirms this fact, but reasserts that Chanyeol is able to do more than just that with Kyungsoo. It isn’t as much as trying hard to impress girls, trying to look nice on a date. Baekhyun says that the hints have always been there, like when Kyungsoo offers to cook dinner for the guys and Chanyeol offers to help out, too. While Chanyeol has  _always_  offered to help – he actually stays back at Kyungsoo’s apartment to clean up even after midnight, and that’s saying something.

Kyungsoo says that it all has started out as a joke that spirals into reality at an alarming speed. It began when Chanyeol bought couple rings as a joke on White Day and gave one half to Kyungsoo – just  _because._ They weren’t even an item at this point, and Baekhyun says that Chanyeol often does this sort of thing – buying advance ticket to watch a musical with his then-girlfriend, only to break up days before the date and asking Baekhyun to accompany him instead. And Chanyeol gulps nervously, because he has done this before –  _in his world_ , like when he bought movie tickets for a date only to be stood up on the day, and had to call Sehun to come watch the film with him. The  _maknae_  had to oblige – because he was the younger  _dongsaeng._

Back then, Kyungsoo was just the latest target for Chanyeol’s backup plan in case his dates and relationships with girls fall apart – and the couple rings were just one of them. And then a booking at an expensive restaurant. The funny thing according to Baekhyun is, despite Kyungsoo’s perpetual judgmental and seemingly unimpressed stare, he continued to wear the couple ring as a joke – and so did Chanyeol.

_As a joke._

And then, and then—

Kyungsoo tells Chanyeol that he had taken the couple ring off one day – and in exasperation, the other Chanyeol had asked him where the ring was, as if it really mattered if he’d been wearing it or not. Kyungsoo showed the other Chanyeol that he’d worn it around his neck, pulling the silver string from inside his collar out into view – and Chanyeol’s face had changed into one of relief, and that was when Kyungsoo knew.

Which makes Chanyeol wonder if whatever it is he’s sharing with Kyungsoo right now – _this relationship_ , is it a joke, too? A universal joke?

_How do I label this, now? Are we friends, even?_

At least Chanyeol thinks they are.

“When did you fall in love with him?” Chanyeol asks, and Kyungsoo replies that he probably has always been in love with  _the other Chanyeol_  – and Chanyeol’s heart drops. 

They sit in silence afterwards, playing Nintendo on the sofa; Chanyeol beating Kyungsoo at the game – and Kyungsoo tells him, “I hate you, because you’re so much better at this than him and I can’t beat you.” Chanyeol is stunned – before Kyungsoo pulls Chanyeol’s shoulder as if to pacify him. “Sorry, I don’t hate you  _hate you_  – don’t take it to heart,” he says when Chanyeol fake-pouts and pretends to be offended. Kyungsoo seems to be genuinely concerned for a second, before Chanyeol gives his infamous toothy grin and chuckles, and Kyungsoo slaps his shoulders.

Chanyeol’s eyes flicker towards a photo – the one taken somewhere in Europe, judging from the architecture in the background. Kyungsoo tells Chanyeol that it was taken in Venice on their honeymoon, and Chanyeol replies that he has never been anywhere outside Korea at all.

“I’ll take you there,” Kyungsoo promises, “-- _someday._ ” Chanyeol insists that Kyungsoo doesn’t have to, believing that Kyungsoo is only saying the words out of pity – because _his_ Chanyeol is successful while _he_ isn’t.

“Seriously,” Kyungsoo says, with widened eyes. He lurches forward, encroaching upon Chanyeol’s personal space. “I’ll take you there,” he reiterates determinedly. He tells Chanyeol that they even had a padlock with their names attached at one of the bridges, “—like Namsan Tower,” he says enthusiastically, “—except that you throw away the key into the canal.” And Chanyeol listens to their adventures, of getting lost in the cobbled streets of Venice, of getting gondola rides. Of watching the peaceful waters in the Venetian canals. Chanyeol sees the photos of them posing with various Venetian masks, and Chanyeol feels envious.

“I’ll take you there,” Kyungsoo repeats, this time with a gentle whisper. Chanyeol wishes that it was really him that has gone to Venice with Kyungsoo – not only because he’s always wanted to go abroad, but to spend that time and share those memories with Kyungsoo.

\--

Chanyeol worries for Kyungsoo, because he hasn’t shown a typical grief reaction, even after a month. At that point it doesn’t occur to Chanyeol that Kyungsoo couldn’t cry because he is there. Because even if _Kyungsoo’s Chanyeol_ is gone, he isn’t _really_ gone.

Not when Chanyeol is still there.

Kyungsoo asks if he’s a hypocrite or wanting to stay happy; for wanting to move on. He asks if it’s okay to act calm – and Chanyeol tells him that it’s a form of coping mechanism. Chanyeol tells Kyungsoo that it’s okay to be in denial, to be angry, to be depressed. Chanyeol tells Kyungsoo this to console him, and he could see Kyungsoo clenching his jaw, clenching his fists. Chanyeol could tell that Kyungsoo is not okay, although he wants to show Chanyeol that he’s strong, that he could survive this.

Kyungsoo looks like he is going to break— so Chanyeol pulls him in his arms, as if to hold him together to stop him from crumbling. Kyungsoo doesn’t cry, but Chanyeol knows he wants to. “Just cry,” Chanyeol says. “Just let it all out. Don’t hold back. I’m here to put you back together again,” he tells Kyungsoo – but Kyungsoo shakes his head.

“I can’t,” Kyungsoo replies. “I feel it. I feel the hurt – and it’s really—,” he clenches his shirt, at his chest, “ _—painful,”_  he says. “It’s so painful inside, but the tears just won’t come. What’s wrong with me?”

Chanyeol embraces Kyungsoo tighter, drops a kiss on the crown of Kyungsoo’s head. “Nothing’s wrong with you,” Chanyeol says – “It’s just the universe fucking with our lives,” he adds, and Kyungsoo lets out a snort. “We’re lucky we’re still breathing, still living – given what we’ve gone through,” Chanyeol tells Kyungsoo, and Chanyeol could feel Kyungsoo nodding against his chest. They stay like that on the bed—with Chanyeol sitting against the headboard, while Kyungsoo sits in his lap. They fall asleep cuddled against each other, and Chanyeol finds comfort in Kyungsoo’s warmth. It’s ironic how he was the one who entered this as the lost puppy, but it hits him that Kyungsoo is even more lost than he is, and he wants to help Kyungsoo find his way back.

That night is the first time that their separate sides of the bed have been blurred.

Chanyeol wakes up to find Kyungsoo still snuggled up against him, and he thinks,  _I could live like this._

\--

Chanyeol  _really_  could live like this with Kyungsoo.

Even when either Chanyeol or Kyungsoo’s parents come for a visit, Chanyeol plays the part of Kyungsoo’s husband perfectly – and he himself is surprised at how well he’s managed to convince everyone that he is  _Park Chanyeol_ , the doting husband of Do Kyungsoo.

They’re good at keeping up appearances.

In retrospect, it’s not difficult to do.

Not when Kyungsoo loves dogs as much as Chanyeol does; not when Kyungsoo bakes cupcakes that aren’t patisserie-perfect but still tastes delicious. Not when Kyungsoo gets along so well with his sister, and not just in the stereotypical sassy gay friend kind of way. Not when Kyungsoo gets along so well with his mother, especially when they start sharing recipes between each other. Not when Kyungsoo gets along so well with his father, bonding over Korean history and culture and politics.

It’s not difficult to pretend to pull Kyungsoo into a hug, to pretend that the lingering touches on Kyungsoo’s arms, shoulders, hands – are real. It isn’t difficult to pretend that he enjoys pressing up against Kyungsoo from behind for a back hug, to clasp their hands together, to put his arms around Kyungsoo’s tummy, to rest his chin against Kyungsoo’s shoulder. Chanyeol is all tall jutting bones and gangly limbs, and Kyungsoo is short and soft and squishy all over – and it is so easy to slip into the guise of a loving couple that isn’t bashful about showing displays of affection.

Chanyeol gets bold and presses a kiss on Kyungsoo’s cheek – and the younger man visibly flinches. The first time he does it, it’s in front of Chanyeol’s sister. It isn’t awkward – and although he could tell that Kyungsoo is surprised, Kyungsoo doesn’t chide him for it. Kyungsoo slaps him on the shoulder, punches him in his ribs – but in jest. A questioning look on his face, but a mischievous, daring smile on his lips. So Chanyeol plants another kiss on Kyungsoo’s other cheek – and Chanyeol swears that Kyungsoo looks like a rose in full bloom.

Chanyeol doesn’t mind living like this – because he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy.

_This content._

And Chanyeol thinks that even if he often finds the silver lining in every dark cloud – Kyungsoo seems to be the brightest one of all.

\--

Cupcakes, back hugs and mock-kisses don’t last forever.

Sooner or later Chanyeol will have to realize that he’s living in a fantasy, in a dream-like world that doesn’t rightly belong to him, and he will have to face reality.

And it will hurt.

\--

Weekends are usually the time when Kyungsoo and Chanyeol will sit together and properly brainstorm about legitimate sources regarding time-space continuum – and it’s their ninth weekend together when Kyungsoo finally, truly breaks down. Chanyeol finds him surrounded by books and research papers on physics and black holes and alternate universes – a hairclip on his head to stop his fringe from blocking his eyes, and Kyungsoo looks severely distressed.

“I’ll never see him again, will I?”

“Kyungsoo—,” Chanyeol begins, “—why are you giving up now?” He notices how Kyungsoo fiddles nervously with the ring around his finger, and the awful realization that he himself doesn’t have one.

“It’s pointless,” Kyungsoo huffs. His face is flushed red; frustrated. “We can’t go on living like this. You have a whole different world to go back to. And I feel like— I feel like I’m trapping you  _here,_ ” he says. “A part of me wishes you gone, so that I could properly mourn for him. So that at least I know that he’s gone and he’s gone for good. But at the same time I don’t want you to go, because I’m going to miss you. I’m going miss  _him._ ” He refuses to look at Chanyeol, because he feels conflicted. Confused.

_Guilty._

“It’s horrible, because I don’t know what I want,” he says – and Chanyeol presses closer, pulling Kyungsoo into a backhug. Still Kyungsoo wouldn’t turn around – his body limp like a marionette in Chanyeol’s arms. “I’m scared if I wish too hard for you to go back to your world, you’d really disappear one day but at the risk of not getting him back. I’m going to be alone and—,” Kyungsoo pulls at the fronts of his hair, “—and I can’t imagine living like that. And I feel like a selfish bastard – because it feels like I’m not putting enough effort to get you home. Because what if I let you go and I lose everything?”

“You’re the most selfless bastard I’ve ever met, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol whispers into Kyungsoo’s ear, causing the younger man to turn his head, tries to look up at Chanyeol. “And I promise you that he’s alright. He’ll be alright. He’s me, remember? If he’s like me then he’ll be fine. He’s going to be a fighter. If it’s true that he’s trapped in my world, he’s going to be fine,” he reiterates. “It’ll be like reliving parts of his memories all over again, like working at mom’s restaurant and struggling to make a living, but he’ll be fine. I swear that if he’s trapped in my world, he’d be looking for you too. He’ll be trying to find his way back.” he reassures Kyungsoo.

_Because who will know Park Chanyeol better if not Park Chanyeol himself?_

“So even if you wish too hard and I do disappear,” Chanyeol says, “—he’s going to come back. He’s going to slip through the crack of time the way I came. And he’ll be back in your arms. There will be no more pretence,” he says – and he doesn’t know why the thought actually caused ache in his heart.

The thought of leaving Kyungsoo’s world and returning to his lonely existence.

_Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t want to leave._

_I’m turning greedy,_  Chanyeol thinks. _So how could you say that you’re the one who’s being selfish?_

“I’m selfish because I never think about how you feel, about how you might cope about being here. All I do is moan and throw shades at you for existing—,” Kyungsoo says—as if reading Chanyeol’s mind, before he is cut mid-sentence. Tears in his eyes.

“Because I’m a second rate carbon copy of your husband?” Chanyeol asks sharply.

Kyungsoo blinks.

A teardrop trails down Kyungsoo’s cheek, and he quickly wipes it away with a knuckle. He takes a deep breath, forces himself to stop crying.

“No— _no,_ ” Kyungsoo shakes his head. “You’re not second-rate. You’re just—  _different,_  but at the same time so similar. You’re like a ghost. You’re a painful reminder that I couldn’t even properly mourn for him, because I don’t know if he’s still alive,” he explains. “But then you’re still walking, still living, still breathing – and it confuses me. Because you’re here. And  _you—,”_ Kyungsoo grimaces, “—you never complain. You’re just there, soaking everything in. Listen to everything I say. And in that regard, you’re most like  _him_. Because you’re always happy, and everyone would think that you’re completely problem-free. And I never ask you once about how you feel.”

“I feel  _happy,_ ” Chanyeol insists. “I’m happy  _here,_  Kyungsoo,” he says.

Kyungsoo immediately throws him an incredulous look. “Don’t lie. You look like you were dying when you first found out that you were married to me.”

“It’s not you. I swear. It’s just – I’ve never even considered being –  _falling_  – for a man.”

 _Until now,_  Chanyeol wants to add – but he tells himself that it’s a silly notion –  _because I’m straight, am I not?_

“I know, Chanyeol. Don’t look so tortured,” Kyungsoo’s expression softens. “I admire you and your diligence, your adaptability,” he continues. “You fit right in – like it was effortless, and nobody noticed. I imagine that it will be difficult for you, to be thrown into a world that is almost like yours, but different in so many ways.”

“It  _is_  difficult,” Chanyeol agrees. “Everyone else – they’re easy to convince,” he says. “But  _you,_  you see right through me. You notice, because you  _care_. I’m not saying that other people don’t. I’m saying – you care  _more._  And you still care – even when you know I’m not  _him._ ”

Kyungsoo takes a deep, fissuring breath before glancing up at Chanyeol – his dark eyes veiled beneath his long, gentle lashes. “How could I not?” he asks with a half-smile. And then he bites his lips, lowers his gaze—as if he is waiting for something.

 _Screw this,_  Chanyeol thinks.

He instantaneously reaches for Kyungsoo’s face, lifting Kyungsoo’s chin gently with his fingers so that their eyes could meet. And then he leans down, before kissing Kyungsoo squarely on the lips.

A soft kiss.

Chanyeol pulls away, and finds Kyungsoo staring at him questioningly.

“I’m  _still_ Park Chanyeol,” Chanyeol says, with uneven breaths. “I’m not  _your_  Chanyeol, and I don’t endeavour to be him. We’re different individuals – but the essentials are the same. Just because I’m in the wrong world, it doesn’t nullify the feelings that I have for you,” he says, his voice cracking. “I’m selfish because I want you all to myself. I’m greedy because I want something which is not mine. I’ve had a taste of life with you – and I  _love_  it. And I want more. I want all of it. I want to grow old with you. I want to—I want to  _marry_  you,” Chanyeol professes unexpectedly.

“Stop right there,” Kyungsoo holds up a hand. “ _Don’t._  That’s not a funny joke, Chanyeol.”

“It’s  _not_  a joke,” Chanyeol says. “I’m—  _serious,_ ” he tells Kyungsoo – and he’s surprised at his own confession, because the realization hits him like an avalanche. “I want to marry you. For  _real._  Because, oh God, Kyungsoo, I think I  _love_  you,” he whispers hoarsely, initially overwhelmed by emotions that he couldn’t describe. And then, Chanyeol feels strangely glad.

He’s glad that his thoughts are out in the open, and he doesn’t have to be in denial any longer.

Kyungsoo continues staring at him as if he has lost his mind.

The silence is deafening.

“Say something,” Chanyeol pleads. “ _Please._ ”

Kyungsoo opens his mouth, before closing it again and lets out a sigh.

“Slap me,” Chanyeol whispers hoarsely. “Hit me. Be angry at me.  _Just—,_ ” he groans, “—do  _something_.”

A loud sound reverberates throughout the room when Kyungsoo slaps him on the cheek. Chanyeol hisses – because the sting burns on his skin, and he grimaces.

“Much better,” Chanyeol manages to say, before Kyungsoo pulls the front of his shirt roughly. Kyungsoo tugs at his collar, before tiptoeing to kiss Chanyeol again, his hand travelling up to shove his fingers in Chanyeol’s hair.

Chanyeol’s initial kiss had been soft, demure. This kiss is nothing like that.

This is a reckless, filthy, open-mouthed kiss – it was Kyungsoo who has instigated it, and Chanyeol thinks,  _it’s always the quiet ones_  – because Chanyeol could feel himself hardening in his pants. He’s never been turned on this quickly.

The fact that Kyungsoo is a man has been thrown out the window.

Chanyeol steadies Kyungsoo’s neck as he deepens the kiss, his tongue greedily exploring Kyungsoo’s mouth, and he doesn’t even realize that he has let out a low-growled moan. His hands move to cup Kyungsoo’s buttocks – and he squeezes them, before he decides to lift Kyungsoo up in his arms. Kyungsoo breaks the kiss, before circling Chanyeol’s hips with his legs, his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, and lets Chanyeol carry him to the bedroom.

“Chanyeol— _I_ —,” Kyungsoo begins, when Chanyeol lowers him to the bed. “I feel like I’m being unfaithful,” Kyungsoo exhales. He is shivering. Chanyeol holds his hand to steady him, and Kyungsoo’s palms are as cold as ice.

“Why?”

“Because I feel like I’ve forgotten him. It’s like – he’s out of the picture altogether. When I’m with you – I don’t think about him anymore. I think about –  _you._  And it scares me,” Kyungsoo confesses, his brows knitted in apprehension.

“He’s not  _here_ ,” Chanyeol murmurs raspingly. “ _I am_.”

Kyungsoo reaches up to touch Chanyeol’s cheek, where he has slapped the taller man before. Chanyeol leans into the touch, letting Kyungsoo caress his jawline, his earlobe, his collarbone. His breath hitches when Kyungsoo’s nails graze against Chanyeol’s skin.

“I know,” Kyungsoo swallows. “That’s the problem,” he says, when he pulls his hand away.  

 _He’s going to push me away. I should’ve shut my fucking mouth. I’ve ruined everything,_  Chanyeol thinks.

“Why did you have to fall in love with me?” Kyungsoo asks, in a hoarse whisper. “Why couldn’t you just stay – the way you were? Why can’t you just stay— _straight?_ ”

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol replies. His witty comebacks – they’ve all disappeared into thin air with Kyungsoo’s words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Park Chanyeol with nothing to say,” Kyungsoo sniffles—before gently running his hand in Chanyeol’s hair. “That’s a first, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol nods and smiles wryly. “Only you could turn me speechless, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I wish that you’re a jerk. I wish that you stink, that you don’t flush the toilet, that you’re rude. I wish I could hate you, so I could kick you out of the house, so that I could keep telling myself how amazing he is as compared to you. But now I can’t even do that. Not when you’re so— _him,”_  Kyungsoo says, frown lines decorating his forehead, his eyelashes wet with tears that are beginning to well up again in his eyes. “Not when you’re so— _you.”_

“Who else could I be but myself?” Chanyeol asks, and Kyungsoo breaks into tears – happy tears, because he smiles as he reaches up to touch Chanyeol’s cheeks, runs his hand down Chanyeol’s chest and places his palm over Chanyeol’s heart.

“I love you, Chanyeol. I love you. You’re not  _him,_  but I still love you. I’m not a bad person, am I?”

“No—,” Chanyeol says, because Kyungsoo isn’t a bad person. It’s not his fault. It’s nobody’s fault. “You’re a good person. It’s okay, Kyungsoo.  _It’s okay_ ,” he soothes Kyungsoo, as the younger man clutches onto him, and Chanyeol could feel Kyungsoo’s hot tears staining his skin.

It is all the encouragement that Kyungsoo needs to hear before he kisses Chanyeol again. Chanyeol tells himself that this is okay – that for the time being Kyungsoo is his, and his alone.  _What is essential is invisible to the eye,_ he thinks, and his heart tells him that this is  _right._  His heart tells him that this is the reason why he’s been sent here, into this parallel world – so that he could meet Kyungsoo and fall in love with him, because Kyungsoo is his soulmate.

Loving Kyungsoo is the  _right_  thing to do. 

\--

_to be continued..._

\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said that this chapter will be the last. Ha bloody haha. Nope. Couldn't be much more wrong than that. There will be one more chapter left to go, I think. 
> 
> So Kyungsoo wants to mourn for his Chanyeol, but couldn't properly do it. Because how could he, when this new Chanyeol is around? But yes, things will come to a head in the next chapter. Like the whereabouts of Kyungsoo's Chanyeol, etc. 
> 
> Also, I would like to thank everybody who has spent some time to read this fic, because, wow. I didn't expect any kind of positive response, at all. So thank you so much, you guys totally made my day. :')


	5. To Have Squeezed the Universe into a Ball

_What is essential is invisible to the eye,_ _he thinks, and his heart tells him that this is right. His heart tells him that this is the reason why he’s been sent here, into this parallel world – so that he could meet Kyungsoo and fall in love with him, because Kyungsoo is his soulmate._

_Loving Kyungsoo is the right thing to do._

_\--_

They stand facing each other, in the bedroom.

Chanyeol fiddles with his thumbs, looking every bit like a lost, oversized schoolboy awaiting judgment from his homeroom teacher. He's supposed to be the older man, but at this moment he feels so small, like an awkward five-year-old hoping that someone will come play with him at the school playground. Kyungsoo folds his arms and watches Chanyeol in amusement, his eyebrows quirked upwards as Chanyeol takes one gawky step towards him.

Kyungsoo gazes downwards, tries hard to stifle a giggle.

“How do we do this?” Chanyeol asks, his hands shaking in anticipation. “I’ve—I’ve never done this before—not with a  _man,_ ” he says sheepishly, and Kyungsoo finaly laughs as he pulls Chanyeol for a clumsy, messy kiss. Chanyeol has never seen Kyungsoo being this bold, this confident – as Kyungsoo tugs at the hem of his t-shirt, indicating that Chanyeol should take it off.

“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo says; a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re a quick learner. I have all my faith in you,” he tells Chanyeol with a register so low that it has to be illegal, before nipping at Chanyeol’s collarbones, trailing kisses down his chest, sucking at a nipple and licking at the sensitive nub. Chanyeol inadvertently lets out a hiss – and when Kyungsoo’s lips are no longer on his skin Chanyeol lets out a sigh, before realizing what Kyungsoo is up to.

The younger man tugs at Chanyeol’s zipper, before slipping a hand under Chanyeol’s waistband – and Chanyeol closes his eyes when Kyungsoo begins to move his hand in slow, practiced strokes. “ _Fuck_ —Kyungsoo, that feels so— _good,_ ” Chanyeol says, with interrupted breaths.

Kyungsoo knows every inch of Chanyeol’s body, tracing each outline from memory – and Chanyeol feels at an utter disadvantage, because he wants to keep up with Kyungsoo, because he’s never done this before  _at all._  A slight feeling of inferiority complex washes over Chanyeol, but Kyungsoo kisses him again, gives him an encouraging smile, and guides Chanyeol to where he loves to be touched.

“I’ll let you take me tonight,” Kyungsoo says, when their clothes have been discarded haphazardly on the bedroom floor. “I  _want_  you inside me. I want to  _feel_  you inside me. It’s been too long, Chanyeol – I don’t think I could take it anymore,” Kyungsoo gasps as Chanyeol thumbs at his slit, as Chanyeol begins to lick at the underside of his cock, as Chanyeol begins to suck.

 _This feels strange,_  Chanyeol thinks – but the mewls that Kyungsoo makes are worth it, or the way Kyungsoo tugs at his hair as Chanyeol sucks harder, tonguing the veins on Kyungsoo’s cock. The way Kyungsoo’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, the way his chest moves up and down in shallow breaths as Chanyeol’s head bobs up and down his shaft. The salty tang of Kyungsoo’s precum hits Chanyeol’s tongue – and he savours the taste, tries to memorise; swallows it.

Chanyeol is drunk on Kyungsoo. 

He inhales Kyungsoo’s scent – a mixture of sweat and bergamot, and bites the skin at the juncture between Kyungsoo’s neck and shoulder. Kyungsoo opens his legs – wide, before beginning to pleasure himself, inserting one, then two fingers inside himself; his proud cock jutting up in the air. He stares at Chanyeol – unblinking, toes curling up in a mixture of pain and pleasure. His pink, delectable lips forming an ‘O’ when he finds that sweet spot – and Chanyeol thinks that everything else that he’s seen – other girls, other racy videos that he has watched will never ever amount up to this.

“C’mere, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo implores, and who is Chanyeol to resist? They share another kiss, tasting of saliva and cum -- and when Chanyeol enters Kyungsoo for the first time, it really does feel like they are made for each other. Kyungsoo is  _tight_  – and the younger man whimpers as Chanyeol pushes further, but he spreads his legs wider; clenches his inner muscles to accommodate Chanyeol – and when Chanyeol reaches up to the hilt, Kyungsoo lets out a ringing laughter that sounds heavenly; musical to Chanyeol’s ears. “Oh, Chanyeol—I miss you so much,” Kyungsoo says, and there are tears of joy in his eyes.

Chanyeol wipes a tear off Kyungsoo’s face, as Kyungsoo wraps his arms around Chanyeol’s neck – and Chanyeol kisses Kyungsoo softly. “Now move. Please,” Kyungsoo pleads. “I need to feel you.  _Please—_ ,” he begs, and Chanyeol begins to pull out, before thrusting in again, “ _Fuck—_ that feels so good,” Kyungsoo says, and Chanyeol wants to hear more of this, more of Kyungsoo talking dirty in bed, wants to kiss all the profanities that comes out of Kyungsoo’s mouth.

When Chanyeol pulls out again, Kyungsoo flips them over and climbs atop Chanyeol, licking his lips and has the audacity to smirk, before giving Chanyeol a sly wink. He guides Chanyeol into him, and it is Chanyeol’s turn to gasp, to feel Kyungsoo enveloping him. “You are so beautiful, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol rasps, as Kyungsoo begins to move up and down, lifting his hips, his back arching – causing delicious friction between him and Chanyeol. The sound of skin slapping skin, interspersed with their breathless, low-growled moans that resonate in the air. Chanyeol holds on to Kyungsoo’s slender hips as the younger man keens on him; eyes glazed, and from this angle Kyungsoo looks ethereal – like a siren;  _otherworldly._

_Beautiful._

Chanyeol comes first – into Kyungsoo, crying out for Kyungsoo’s name. The younger man pulls Chanyeol into a firm embrace, soothing away each wave of Chanyeol’s orgasm with a kiss. Chanyeol drowns in Kyungsoo’s languid heat, as Kyungsoo seeks pleasure for himself, and Chanyeol drops lazy kisses on Kyungsoo’s freckled shoulders. Chanyeol could tell when Kyungsoo’s orgasm peaks, his face scrunching up as it hits him, as he bites his lips in reckless abandon.

They rest like that, when it is all over. Kyungsoo’s head against Chanyeol’s chest, a contented smile etched upon his lips. Reeling in the afterglow, Chanyeol traces swirly patterns on Kyungsoo’s back, his eyelids heavy for sleep – but he forces himself awake, wanting to cherish this moment as long as he could. “I think he would be okay with this,” Kyungsoo mumbles into Chanyeol’s skin. “He wouldn’t mind,” he says, as he looks up at Chanyeol with a pout on his lips. “I’m so happy, Chanyeol,” he says, and sniffles – before reaching up to drop a quick kiss on Chanyeol’s lips.

“I’m happy too,”Chanyeol replies. “I’m  _always_  happy – but with you, I’m the happiest. I’m the happiest right now,” he says wholeheartedly.

“We should get you a ring. A new one,” Kyungsoo says.

“We should renew our vows. Get married –  _again._  Because I missed it the first time around,” Chanyeol quips, as he links his fingers with Kyungsoo’s and fiddles with Kyungsoo’s wedding ring.

“Hmm— _hmm,_ ” Kyungsoo hums. “There’s time for that tomorrow,” he says. “Now I just want you here, in bed. With me.”

Chanyeol rolls them over and kisses Kyungsoo again, sloppily. “I couldn’t agree more,” he grins.

 _I could live like this_ , he thinks.

\--

He wakes up -- albeit groggily; reaching for Kyungsoo to his left, without opening his eyes. Chanyeol squints one eye open and realizes that the other side of the bed is empty, and he thinks,  _Kyungsoo must be preparing breakfast, then._ Chanyeol rolls onto his back with a smile on his face, before he blinks and stares at the ceiling, and thinks -- this room looks familiar, but different.

_I've seen this ceiling before, a long time ago -- but where?_

Chanyeol wakes up instantaneously, fully -- and realizes panickingly, that this is his room.

Not Kyungsoo's bedroom, not the one he has shared with Kyungsoo in the other world-- but his own lonely, tattered single-bedroom flat.

Chanyeol is at a loss. He’s  _back_  – in his own world, in his messy room, where a pile of unwashed clothes has accumulated at one corner, empty soju bottles underneath his bed, his guitar next to the drawer.

Kyungsoo isn’t here.

Chanyeol always thought that he would be happy to return – but this,  _this_  has to be the cruellest joke of all. To have Kyungsoo taken away from him, just when Chanyeol has accepted that he  _wants_  Kyungsoo. Chanyeol’s gaze flicker towards his left – because that’s where Kyungsoo usually sleeps on the bed, and it hurts because Kyungsoo has never been  _here_  – has never slept on  _this_  bed.

He remembers Kyungsoo in his white pyjamas, soft fringe of black hair falling over his forehead, reading The Little Prince to Chanyeol as a bedtime story – and the realization that he would never experience that ever again –

_Why?_

_Why now?_

_Why ever?_

Chanyeol clutches at the bedcovers, pulling them up to his chest, to his face – before he starts to sob uncontrollably. It is cruel, because he has nothing in this world that could remind him of Kyungsoo. No polaroid photos, no nostalgic trinkets as proof that he has spent time with the loveliest person he has ever met – that he has ever had the privilege to love. It will be all in his head, and he’s afraid that one day – when he grows old, he will have forgotten everything. He’s afraid that he would just convince himself that it never happened, that it was all a dream.

“Why?” Chanyeol screams, to no one in particular. His voice echoes throughout the room, his entire body quaking with each sob. The tears keep coming, and no one is there to comfort him. He will feel stupid later, because he has never cried in agony; rarely ever sheds a tear when watching sad films. But now, he  _feels_  too much and it roils from within, searing through his heart with so much pain. “Why do you take him away from me?” he cries again, in a mixture of grief and rage.

_Why put me through all that only to have him taken away from me?_

\--

The other Chanyeol has also been looking for a way back, judging from the amount of physics textbooks he has raided from the local library – and most of them are already overdue. I’ll have to fork out more money to pay for the overdue fines, Chanyeol thinks, scratching his head with a wince. He leafs a page of his battered lyrics notepad, and realizes that the other Chanyeol has been scribbling in it, too.

In angst. Desperation.

 _The other Chanyeol_  wants to go back to Kyungsoo—

And Chanyeol realizes, with a heavy heart – that  _the other Chanyeol_  has received his happy ending; has returned to where he belongs – which begs the question:

_Where do I belong, then?_

_Where do I belong if Kyungsoo is not here?_

At least Kyungsoo will be reunited with his Chanyeol, now. Kyungsoo will be happy, because he will still have a soulmate to share his life with.

 _You can’t lose what you never have,_  Chanyeol muses dejectedly.

\--

His friends have been worried about him, because apparently one day he has started asking stubbornly for a man named Kyungsoo – and is surprised (read: offended) that Korea has not legalised gay marriages, before the subject was dropped a few weeks later. Chanyeol scrolls down the text messages he has received from Baekhyun, and one of them asks,  _“Since when did you become a strong proponent of gay marriages, hyung?”_

It makes Chanyeol realize that for the past 24 years of his life he’s never really given much thought about it – about human rights, about world affairs. But he’s not an ignorant prick anymore, and he might as well start  _caring_  now.

Junmyeon calls him and asks if he’s done with the whole parallel universe chat, and begs for everyone’s sanity that he would stop talking about it. Chanyeol reassures him that it was just a fad; that  _yes_ , he would stop talking about it. Chanyeol’s gaze flickers towards the multitudes of quantum physics and astrophysics notes that the other Chanyeol had pasted all over the room, as if for three months Chanyeol has suddenly been transformed into some mad scientist – and Chanyeol frowns hard.  

Chanyeol has the urge to start a nationwide search for Do Kyungsoo, but what good would that do? Does he even exist? And even if Kyungsoo does, he wouldn’t recognize Chanyeol anyway. What would Chanyeol do? Pitch up and say, “Hi, I’m your husband in an alternate universe?”

It just isn’t feasible.

He visits the museum and looks at the Joseon era pots on display, and he remembers Kyungsoo – realizes that he was a broken man before he met Kyungsoo, and it was Kyungsoo who pieced him back together. ‘Nothing on You’ came up on his iPod and Chanyeol grits his teeth, before skipping the track.

It doesn’t mean that he’d stop trying, though. Chanyeol searches for Kyungsoo, queries if there is a junior curator named Do Kyungsoo who works there. Chanyeol  _hopes,_  but he knows that his chances are slim. He knows that the other Chanyeol has been here too, because the guard tells him, “Haven’t you been here before and asked the exact same thing?”

 _I’m tormenting myself,_  he thinks – and he leaves the museum more broken than he was than when he entered.

Chanyeol mopes around for a month, littering his bedroom with lyrics to sad love songs. The tips of his fingers black with ink; his short nails stubbed from strumming his guitar in excruciating desperation. He buys the brands of shower gel and shampoo that Kyungsoo uses as an aide-mémoire of how Kyungsoo smells like – the scent of bergamot and verbena; and sometimes even just the simple scent of fresh laundry.

He moves like a hollow automaton, smiling and nodding to customers at his mother’s restaurant – and even Baekhyun’s antics only manage to bring out a muted, forced laughter from within him. He still engages in conversations with other people, maintaining the happy virus act that has always come as second nature to him – but they are less meaningful than how conversations have went in the other world – in Kyungsoo’s world.

He orders takeaway kimchi spaghetti and they don’t taste the same as Kyungsoo’s meals; makes eggs and bacons and pancakes for breakfast just to remind himself that this used to be his life with Kyungsoo, but it still aches – because he knows that this is a lie; because it wasn’t shared with Kyungsoo. No sticky notes on the fridge, no one to sing out his lyrics for him, no one to butcher cheesy love songs with.

He phones Baekhyun and Jongin for a weekend brunch at his place, and they sound surprised because Chanyeol never has breakfast. It isn’t the same when he hangs out with Baekhyun and Jongin, because he couldn’t talk about Kyungsoo.

Because they have never even met Kyungsoo; because Kyungsoo has never been part of their circle.

It drives Chanyeol nuts – because he still could hear Kyungsoo’s voice, and he realizes then that he is in mourning.

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.

_Grief._

\--

Chanyeol sets out to write his music – and he has never felt this prolific before. And it doesn’t matter if fate foretells that he will never be discovered by a music producer by chance and write songs for famous artists. It doesn’t matter if he still has to work at his mother’s restaurant. He will still take part in underground rap battles; he will persevere. People are saying that he has changed – that he is still a happy-go-lucky Chanyeol, but somehow he has become more grounded. More serious. They couldn’t even say if he has changed for the better or worse.

Even in his own world, he has become a stranger among friends.

Three months pass and Chanyeol has saved just enough money for a backpacking trip – to Venice, and he’s going alone. He remembers Kyungsoo’s enthusiasm – ‘The canals are beautiful,’ he has said, ‘—once you get past the fishy smell of the sea – but it’s such a gorgeous place!’ Chanyeol tries to remember the photographs that Kyungsoo has taken – the churches, the bridges, the gondolas.  _It’s such a lovely, sunny day,_  Chanyeol thinks, and  _I’m happy._

He’s happy that he’s actually doing something with his life. He’s not passively waiting for something to happen. He’s actively searching for opportunities; he has sent a mixtape of his songs to several recording companies. He went for auditions – and granted, he’s still waiting for a reply – rejection or acceptance, but at least he has done something.

And he thinks,  _‘Would I be here if I hadn’t met Kyungsoo?’_ Chanyeol would still be stuck in Seoul, wallowing in self-pity, with the fact that he’s never been anywhere. But now he’s here, and he’s glad.

Kyungsoo’s not here, but it’s okay.

 _It’s okay,_  he tells himself, as he walks to the Piazza San Marco, where he identifies the building as the background to Kyungsoo and the other Chanyeol’s honeymoon photo – and he thinks, “You promised you’d take me here, didn’t you, Kyungsoo?”

In retrospect, probably Kyungsoo did.

Yes, Chanyeol came here alone, out of his own accord. But his decision has been driven by his memories with Kyungsoo. Even if people were to argue that the memories are non-existent, it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that he’s finally  _here_  – despite the gripping realization that Kyungsoo is  _not_ ; and probably never will. He walks up to the Ponte dell’Accademia, where Kyungsoo says he has attached a lovelock with Kyungsoo and Chanyeol’s name written on it – in the parallel world. Chanyeol stands by the side of the bridge overlooking the Grand Canal, gripping the metal handrails tightly. There are hundreds;  _thousands_  of lovelocks attached here, but he knows that none of them is Kyungsoo’s.

He lets the sun burn his skin, lets the agonizing pain sear his heart. The soft wind caresses his cheeks, and Chanyeol takes off his snapback, before mussing up his hair. He writes his name and Kyungsoo’s on a padlock he’s bought – after haggling in broken English with the padlock vendor across the bridge, locks it shut at the handrail and throws the key resolutely into the Grand Canal.

Chanyeol has let go.

 _No more,_  he thinks.

_Kyungsoo is no more._

\--

He returns home and finds out that he has been accepted as a trainee in one of the major entertainment companies. Chanyeol realizes that his life is going down a very different trajectory than the other Chanyeol’s – before he pauses and backtracks; forces himself to delete that thought process in his mind, because he has sworn to himself that he will not reminisce about the other world, ever.

Chanyeol goes for haircut; dyes it red just because he feels like it – as if his heart is bleeding and churning and he’s making a statement to the world.  _Bleed it out,_  he thinks, and  _keep smiling_. When he returns home from the hairdressers, his mom doesn’t say anything— but his sister does give him a lot of hell for it. He says, “I need to look good, I need to stand out among the other trainees,” – and his sister retorts that he doesn’t need to dye his hair to stand out – “Your height and Yoda-like ears are memorable enough,” she quips – and he merely rolls his eyes nonchalantly.

\--

There is only the dull humdrum of his first day as a trainee at the entertainment company – of corporate induction meetings, bowing to his seniors and getting free lunches. He lifts his head up, and gets introduced to the other new trainees, when suddenly –

Chanyeol hasn’t noticed  _him_  before, being in the room full of tall, noisy crowds, but then _he_  speaks out.  _He_  stands near the wall, at one corner of the room – and  _his_  voice is different from what Chanyeol remembers it to be. But then Chanyeol remembers something else, remembers that someone  _somewhere_  – in what feels like a long time ago, has once told him that  _his_  voice changes among strangers.

Chanyeol hears it for the first time, now.

“My name is Do Kyungsoo, and I’m one of the new trainees too,” he says with a deep baritone voice – eyes large; expectant – and, “I will persevere to work hard,” he adds, “—so please take care of me,” with an unwavering smile.

Chanyeol stares, because it is unmistakably  _him._

Their gazes meet for a split second – and Kyungsoo smiles courteously at Chanyeol; tipping his head slightly in acknowledgment, but it means  _nothing._  Kyungsoo pays attention to a different person now, and it is obvious that Kyungsoo does not recognise Chanyeol. Why would he?

After the initial commotion has died down, Chanyeol pulls up a chair and sits beside Kyungsoo. “Hello,” Chanyeol says, with a wide grin. He grits his teeth to stop them from chattering; he reprimands himself for acting like an idiot. Tells himself to stop being anxious.

He could do this.

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen.

_I miss this._

_I miss you._

There are so many things that Chanyeol wants to say, so many things that he wants to do. He wants to pull Kyungsoo into a hug, he wants to tell Kyungsoo that how much Chanyeol misses him – but he  _couldn’t._

“Hello, there,” Kyungsoo replies. “Park Chanyeol-sshi, right?”

Chanyeol nods expectantly – almost akin to a dog wagging his tail in excitement.

“I noticed you from miles away. What with that red hair and those huge glasses,” Kyungsoo says, with a soft smile. “I heard from the other trainees that you’re someone that we all should look out for, because you’re a multitalented genius. Rapper, musician, lyricist, dancer. Not to mention that you’re a really good looking guy, too.”

_Really?_

Chanyeol opens his mouth in surprise, before closing them again and shakes his head. “Um. Thanks,” he says, blushing hotly. “I’ve heard so much about you too,” he says, self-conscious that his cheeks probably have turned beetroot red – probably as red as the mop of hair on his head. “They say that you have a beautiful voice.”

Kyungsoo tilts his head in amusement, wrinkling his nose slightly – and does his trademark slow-blink-and-then-chuckle act, making Chanyeol’s teeth hurt from the saccharinity of Kyungsoo’s expression. “Thank you,” Kyungsoo says, his voice a register lower than usual, and Chanyeol clenches his fists tightly, all while giving Kyungsoo a lopsided grin.

“I hope that we could work together in the future, you and I,” Chanyeol says earnestly, because he yearns to play the guitar and hear Kyungsoo sing for him again. “I’m not saying this out of courtesy. I  _mean_  it,” Chanyeol tells Kyungsoo, and if the younger man notices the hitch in Chanyeol’s breath as he says the words, he hasn’t said a word.

And just like that, they are friends.

People will often ask Chanyeol how he does it. How he gets Kyungsoo to open up; to become fast friends in half an hour when it takes them two months on average, and Chanyeol never really has an answer for it.

 _It’s always been easy,_  Chanyeol thinks. But with Kyungsoo, everything is  _easier._

_Like soulmates._

At the end of the first day, they decide to take the train home together – and Chanyeol nearly tears up when Kyungsoo suggests that they should buy takoyaki at the Apjugeong station.

Not much has  _really_  changed, even in parallel worlds.

When they move into the dorm for trainees, Chanyeol finds it unfortunate that they’re not roommates, but he takes the chance to call out Kyungsoo’s name at night several times anyway, just to annoy him – and Kyungsoo will have the decency to look offended – although they will laugh about it the next morning. They spend whatever free time they have playing Nintendo games and going to night markets together, and even when Kyungsoo goes alone he always remembers to buy something for Chanyeol. Kyungsoo will make kimchi spaghetti for the other boys in the dorm, but it will be Chanyeol who shotguns for the  _first_  and  _last_  taste of Kyungsoo’s cooking every single time, and he will stay to help Kyungsoo wash the dishes when dinner is done.

It has come to a point where the other boys in the dorm – Luhan and Minseok, especially – starts touting them as the ‘Old Married Couple’, because Chanyeol and Kyungsoo often fight over the silliest things, before making up a few minutes later – and fights again –  _rinse and repeat_ ; but they remain inseparable.

Chanyeol will come to Kyungsoo’s room with his guitar and the younger man is always eager to sing with him, be it Chanyeol’s original composition or an English song that they both happen to love. When they’ve run out of steam Chanyeol will talk about his family and Kyungsoo will talk about his, and it feels like living in the other world all over again; it feels like starting over.

Kyungsoo is amazed when Chanyeol guesses that the younger man is interested in history. “If you hadn’t auditioned, I predict that you’d be working as a curator in a museum—,” Chanyeol begins, feigning humour in the tone of his voice despite the obstinate, excruciating pain in his heart.

 _“—wiping dust off pots,”_  Kyungsoo finishes Chanyeol’s sentence for him, akin to what the other Kyungsoo has said in the other world – and Chanyeol inadvertently takes a sharp breath, his tongue frozen in shock. Kyungsoo will give him a questioning stare, but Chanyeol will merely brush it off as  _nothing._

Kyungsoo doesn’t believe him. He may seem unemotional, but he is perceptive.

Kyungsoo  _cares._

And Kyungsoo knows that Chanyeol is hiding something from him.

One day, Kyungsoo will catch Chanyeol reading Le Petit Prince in his room, and he will tell Chanyeol keenly that it’s his favourite book, too. Chanyeol will choke on his words, wishing that he could fly back to Venice and drown in the canals, because he wants to tell Kyungsoo that in another life, in another time,  _we’re married_  – but Chanyeol is a coward, fearing that Kyungsoo will push him away and call him a lunatic.

The closest he ever gets is when he says, “What if I tell you that we’re soulmates?” – as if in jest, and Kyungsoo merely looks at him impassively.

“You’re really funny, you know that?” Kyungsoo retorts, before his lips curve up into a half-smile.

Chanyeol bites his lips and swallows heavily, because  _the other Kyungsoo_  has once told him the exact same thing.

Three months into their friendship, it is Kyungsoo who suggests that they should get matching friendship rings, and Chanyeol is taken aback. The day Kyungsoo comes back with the rings, Chanyeol takes a deep breath and struggles to stop the sobs that are building up inside his chest. Kyungsoo wears one on his index finger, and enthusiastically tells Chanyeol to wear his, too.

Kyungsoo puts a hand on Chanyeol’s shoulders, brows furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?” he asks, and Chanyeol could merely shake his head, before exhaling a breath that he doesn’t realize he’s held in for so long. “It’s okay if you don’t want to wear it,  _hyung,_ ” Kyungsoo says feebly, before pulling his hand away – but Chanyeol catches his wrist and clasps Kyungsoo’s hands in his.

“I’ll wear it,” he says, with uneven breaths. “I won’t take it off,” he tells Kyungsoo. “Sorry—it’s just that the last time I shared something like this with someone, we were separated. And I—I’ve never heard anything from that person, ever again. And I’m not the kind of person to hold on to nostalgia, but— _this,_ ” Chanyeol says, as he puts on the ring, “It’s a reminder that I should be true to my words. It’s a reminder that I should try harder. With  _you_ ,” Chanyeol squeezes Kyungsoo’s hands before linking their fingers together.

And Chanyeol realizes that it doesn’t matter which Kyungsoo it is – whether it be in this world or  _the other_  – he’s so easy to love.  _This_  Kyungsoo – he’s not  _just_  a replacement. He  _is_  Kyungsoo, body and soul – and even if his memories are different, the essentials are the same.

 _The essentials are the same,_  Chanyeol ruminates,  _and I’m blessed._

Kyungsoo will look at photos from Chanyeol’s recent European excursions, before telling Chanyeol that he’s never been to Venice. Chanyeol will reply, “I’ll take you there,”— reminiscent of  _the other Kyungsoo’s_  words, and it’s a promise that he intends to keep.

 _We’ll make new memories together,_  Chanyeol thinks,  _you and I._

Even if they only stay as  _best friends._

_It’s okay._

\--

Another hard day’s work – of training, of learning dance steps, of singing while dancing. By the time Chanyeol reaches the dorm he has aches all over his body, sticky sweat all over his body, clinging to his clothes. All he wants is to have a hot shower and a quick meal, before jumping into bed to catch up on sleep.

He steps into the shared shower room and realizes that Kyungsoo has already returned – he is in one of the stalls, judging from his passionate rendition of Brown Eyed Soul’s ‘Promise You’; his voice slightly muffled by the sound of the shower.

“Oi, Kyungsoo!”

The singing stops.

“Er, yes. Chanyeol-hyung?”

“Nothing,” Chanyeol snorts. “Keep singing. Entertain me while I’m taking a shower.”

“Ha,  _ha,_ ” Kyungsoo replies – and Chanyeol could imagine Kyungsoo’s face as he lets out the soulless, expressionless laughter. “Yes, Your Majesty. Any song requests?” he adds sardonically, his voice reverberates through the tiled room as Chanyeol steps into one of the stalls and takes off his clothes.

Chanyeol switches on the shower tap, letting the water droplets wash over him – and he lets out a sigh, before replying, “Anything you like. Just keep singing. I love listening to your voice.”

For a few seconds Chanyeol hears nothing – only the sound of water hitting the floor, but then Kyungsoo starts singing the lines of a song that he knows too well by heart, and his heart sinks.

 _“If I told you I was perfect I'll be lying_  
If there's something I'm not doing girl I'm trying  
I'm know I'm no angel  
But I'm not so bad.”

Chanyeol stands still, stops scrubbing at his chest, his torso. He lets the water trickle all over his body, his arms limp by his sides. The scent of bergamot and verbena begins to emanate from the stall next to his – and all Chanyeol could think about is, ‘Damnit, Kyungsoo,’ – and a familiar ache starts to brew in his gut, up to his heart, up to his throat.

 _“Beautiful girls, all over the world_  
I could be chasing, but my time would be wasted  
They got nothing on you, baby  
Nothing on you, baby.”

He pours a decent amount of shampoo in his palm and begins to massage his scalp absentmindedly, completely ignoring the hot tears that are beginning to trail down his cheeks – and when he wipes them away he presses the balls of his palms into his eyes to force himself to stop crying. Because he remembers the other Kyungsoo singing this song – but this Kyungsoo sings it sweeter, tugging at Chanyeol’s heartstrings with his emotionally churning voice. Chanyeol remembers dancing to this song as Kyungsoo hums; he remembers wrapping Kyungsoo in his arms and planting a soothing kiss upon Kyungsoo’s head.

Chanyeol rinses his hair, and doesn’t even realize that Kyungsoo has stopped singing, or the fact that Kyungsoo has stopped showering next door. Chanyeol sniffles and continues to lather foams of shower gel, scrubbing furiously until it hurts, until his pale skin turns red and blotchy all over.

He remembers things that he has never done with Kyungsoo in this lifetime, in this universe – and he wishes that he could. Kyungsoo is only one stall away – yet Chanyeol couldn’t move; trapped by the fear of rejection, stuck with holding on to inexistent memories from another universe.

His entire body shakes with sobs that he couldn’t quite control, because Kyungsoo is so  _near_  and yet so  _far,_  and he wishes he has the courage to tell Kyungsoo about everything and not be rejected as a madcap. Chanyeol leans his forehead against the wet tiles, letting the steaming hot water wash over him like rain, letting them sting his skin where he has scrubbed so hard.

 _‘O God, You've done enough, You've robbed me of enough, I'm too tired and old to learn to love, leave me alone forever,’_  Chanyeol thinks – and that’s when the door of his shower stall creaks open.

Chanyeol hears the dulcet tone of that voice he knows so well even before he manages to look at the face of its owner. “Did you like it?”

He turns around and finds Kyungsoo standing there, stark naked – skin glistening with droplets of water, hair damp and freshly showered. Chanyeol gasps – he doesn’t even try to cover his own nakedness, as he tries to maintain his gaze at Kyungsoo’s face, and his face only. Kyungsoo turns away for a second to lock the door, before he firmly asks, “When are you going to tell me,  _hyung_?” He takes another resolute stride towards Chanyeol, steps right under the shower tap to reach for Chanyeol’s hands.

Chanyeol is at a loss for words – he doesn’t know what Kyungsoo is getting at, but he could try guessing. His breaths become more rapid, more shallow – his toes curling when Kyungsoo places a hand on his cheek, wiping a tear with the pad of his thumb. “Tell you about what?” Chanyeol asks, defiant.

“Anything.  _Everything.”_

“You won’t believe me,” Chanyeol replies gutturally – and nearly slips when Kyungsoo corners him against the tiled wall, pressing his wet, naked thigh against Chanyeol’s.

“Your friends, Baekhyun and Junmyeon – they came looking for you this morning, wanting to drop off something,” Kyungsoo murmurs against Chanyeol’s chest, before glancing up to catch Chanyeol’s gaze. “You were at HQ, so I picked the stuff up on your behalf,” he says, as he runs a finger down Chanyeol’s arms. “I told them my name, and they were literally dumbfounded. I thought they were joking when they said that you’ve talked about me before. Long before we even met. That you’ve been searching for me.”

“Please don’t think that I’m crazy, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol begs, before Kyungsoo places a finger over his lips.

“Other people would,” Kyungsoo says, as a drop of water falls from the edges of his wet fringe. “I know for a fact that your friends thought you were crazy, for a period of time. Especially when you started spouting shit about alternate universes and us being married,” he adds. In this dimmed light, with water trickling down his dark, raven hair, Kyungsoo looks delectable. He licks his pink lips and looks up at Chanyeol through his eyelashes, demanding answers – but Chanyeol is not in the position to do any kind of explanation; not when Kyungsoo’s entire length is pressed up against him, warmth against warmth, wet and inviting.

Kyungsoo holds up his left hand – showing his friendship ring to Chanyeol. “Was it me? The other person that you’ve lost – was it me, or another version of me?”

Chanyeol nods, because there is nothing else he could do.

Kyungsoo places the same hand he has held up behind Chanyeol’s neck, resting it at his nape, while the other hand travels up to Chanyeol’s hair, down to his ears, to his jaw. A thumb against Chanyeol’s bottom lip. “Does he look like me?”

Chanyeol nods again.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I don’t want to freak you out.”

Kyungsoo tiptoes and pulls Chanyeol down for a soft, square kiss – one that lasts for a mere second, before he pulls away. He blinks, and swallows, and stares into Chanyeol’s eyes, his pupils dark and dilated. “Do you love him?”

 _I love him, but I love you too,_  Chanyeol wants to say.

_I love you._

“Do you?” Kyungsoo insists, his eyes widening.

It doesn’t take much. Chanyeol pulls Kyungsoo and turns them around, so that he is the one that presses Kyungsoo against the wall, the impact of Kyungsoo’s back against the tiles causing a thud. Kyungsoo’s chin is upturned, his lips pursed tightly, before curling into a proud, audacious smile. The shower head is directed right above Kyungsoo’s head, and he is drenched with droplets of water that hits his face, falling down his chin, trailing down his body.

In this light Kyungsoo looks like Eros personified.

Kyungsoo laughs wryly, before Chanyeol swoops down for a demanding kiss that silences the younger man – and Chanyeol coaxes Kyungsoo’s mouth open, his tongue tracing along Kyungsoo’s teeth, tasting fresh mint toothpaste. There is the scent of bergamot and chlorine on Kyungsoo’s skin, and it only manages to entice him further.  _It’s always like this,_ Chanyeol thinks – Kyungsoo always looks like he’s the last person in the world to know about seduction, but by God Chanyeol swears that Kyungsoo knows what he is doing.

“Oh, Chanyeol,” he sighs, taunting the taller man with his voice, when he pulls away for breath. Chanyeol is not even just half-hard by this point – his erection pressing unabashedly up against Kyungsoo’s, and the younger man rolls his hips against Chanyeol’s. Kyungsoo looks down and aligns their cocks together, while Chanyeol steadies himself by placing a hand against the wall, just next to Kyungsoo’s head. Their foreheads are pressed against each other, Kyungsoo’s breath against Chanyeol’s skin, and Chanyeol begins to move his free hand up and down Kyungsoo’s length, while Kyungsoo does the same for him.

Kyungsoo kisses the corner of Chanyeol’s mouth and begins to thumb at Chanyeol’s slit, smearing pre-cum all over the head of Chanyeol’s cock. He cups Chanyeol’s balls, an arm around Chanyeol’s neck to hold himself steady, before Chanyeol angles his head slightly to kiss Kyungsoo fully on the lips again. The sounds that they make – Chanyeol’s groans, Kyungsoo’s moans – echoes throughout the shower room, and Chanyeol is aware that anyone could walk in at any time at all. A flick of Kyungsoo’s wrist – and Chanyeol thinks he could see stars, as his own pace at jacking Kyungsoo off slows down, Kyungsoo’s pace intensifies – and the younger man applies enough pressure to tease, enough tricks to cause pleasure. Chanyeol ends up resting his forehead against Kyungsoo’s shoulder, nipping at Kyungsoo’s collarbone as his orgasm builds up.

When he comes, Kyungsoo holds him tight and soothes every quake of his body, as Chanyeol latches on the younger man like dead weight. Kyungsoo presses gentle kisses to his wet temples – but Kyungsoo does not loosen his hold on Chanyeol’s cock.

Chanyeol steps back, his lips swollen and bruised from kissing Kyungsoo – and he could see his teeth marks on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, and somehow it arouses him further. He feels dizzy, almost cross-eyed with lust – as he watches Kyungsoo standing against the wall, as he lifts his hand up to his mouth and licks Chanyeol’s seed from his fingers, challenging Chanyeol to do better. Kyungsoo’s head lolls back as he begins to pleasure himself underneath the showerhead, and Chanyeol feels as if he is in a dream.

Kyungsoo has fallen silent – he doesn’t say anything, but his intrepid eyes studies Chanyeol’s every move, as his hand moves in slow, lazy strokes. His eyelids flutter shut as the first waves of orgasm begins to hit him, and Chanyeol doesn’t know why – it’s probably because Kyungsoo looks so content, so happy – the man is actually chuckling, that Chanyeol moves towards Kyungsoo and kisses him again, savouring every ring of Kyungsoo’s laughter with his tongue, wanting to swallow Kyungsoo whole.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Kyungsoo mouths – and it’s unfair, because Chanyeol has wanted to say it first. “Always have been,” he whispers further, and Chanyeol’s heart skips a beat.

“I  _know_  that I’m in love with you, Kyungsoo.” Chanyeol replies, as he clutches Kyungsoo’s free hand and rests it above Kyungsoo’s head, while his other hand travels southwards, assisting Kyungsoo to reach his orgasm. “I  _love_  you. I love  _you_ ,” Chanyeol says, repeating each ‘You’ as if to make a point, and Kyungsoo’s name on his lips has never sounded more natural, more honest than this. “ _You.”_

Kyungsoo is panting hard, now, as he keens into Chanyeol’s touch – and lets go completely. He shudders, and Chanyeol embraces him in his arms like a pair of peregrine wings. “I want you,” Chanyeol whispers gruffly, when Kyungsoo recovers –

“But I’m not  _him_ ,” Kyungsoo says forlornly.

“You’re  _you._  And I want you,” Chanyeol pleads.

Like undulating waves, they crash against each other. Kyungsoo pushes Chanyeol against the wall, trapping him – pressing kisses down his chest, tracing the outlines of Chanyeol’s ribs, licks the droplets of water on Chanyeol’s skin. He places two fingers upon Chanyeol’s wrist – then, “Your pulse is going crazy,  _hyung,_ ” he says with a thoughtful expression. “And you’ve stopped crying now, too,” he sighs. “But your eyes are still puffy from tears.”

Kyungsoo switches off the shower tap, and suddenly there is only silence – and a few seconds later, the sound of water drops, and their soft breaths.  _Inhale, exhale._  “Jongdae tells me that you grouch in your sleep,” he says raspingly. “He tells me that you’ve been crying – and that you’ve been crying for me. I thought he was lying. But then I heard it too. Not just once, but many times. What did you dream about,  _hyung?_ ”

“I can’t remember. I  _refuse_  to remember,” Chanyeol says – because he really couldn’t. He knows that there are mornings where he wakes up and finds his eyes sticky with dried tears, but he refuses to acknowledge that he has been crying for Kyungsoo in his sleep.

“Why did you cry? I’ve never seen you cry before. Not while you’re awake, at least. Because you’re always so cheerful, so laissez-faire in life,” Kyungsoo says, his arms wrapped around Chanyeol’s damp torso, fingers tracing Chanyeol’s sharp hipbones; his waistline. “And I admire you. I admire your talents, but most of all I admire your optimism.”

“I cried because I thought I could never have you. That you’re just  _this_  close to me but you’re still so far away.”

“I’m  _here,_ ” Kyungsoo smiles kindly. “You only need to ask. I would say yes.”

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol begins, his voice cracking, “— _please,_  take me. If you would have me.”

“I  _would,_ ” Kyungsoo replies earnestly. “In this life – and a thousand  _others,_  I would still have you.”

\--

One day, Chanyeol will ask Kyungsoo, “When did you fall in love with me?” – because he’s curious.

“From the first hello, I guess? I don’t usually do cheesy, I don’t usually do love-at-first-sight. But when you pulled up that chair and said hello – I don’t know. It’s like – I know that we’re going to be  _close,_ ” Kyungsoo will reply, and Chanyeol will chuckle deeply, before pulling Kyungsoo into a back hug. 

“And you believed me,” Chanyeol will say. “You believed that I’d gone through a crack in space and time, and met another you in an alternate universe,” he will whisper against Kyungsoo’s temple, as he wraps his long overcoat around Kyungsoo and buttons it up – so that they are locked together in Chanyeol’s coat.

Kyungsoo will look down, then up and behind at Chanyeol before breaking into a hearty laughter— but he will not move away. He will let Chanyeol put his arms around him, swaying along in synchrony, sharing each other’s warmth, enjoying every delicate detail of intimacy.

“I figured that if you’re a proper stalker you’d come up with a less outrageous excuse than that. And it doesn’t seem that you’re suffering from psychosis, either,” Kyungsoo will retort, and Chanyeol will smile against Kyungsoo’s ear, plants a kiss on Kyungsoo’s cheek.

Kyungsoo will fiddle with Chanyeol’s ring while Chanyeol fiddles with Kyungsoo’s, and to onlookers they are just two boys messing about. Kyungsoo often says to Chanyeol that they’re best mates who happen to love each other, and he’s blessed that way.

He’s blessed, he tells Chanyeol, because he’s able to see with his heart instead of just his eyes, and it’s only with the heart that he could perceive what is essential. “ _On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux,”_ Kyungsoo quotes, and Chanyeol knows that  _this_  is it.

This is  _right._

Everything has fallen right into place.

\--

They tell Minseok and Jongdae that they’re going out to get midnight snacks – and the other boys don’t even bat an eyelash when Chanyeol and Kyungsoo leave, because they’re used to this. They’re used to Chanyeol and Kyungsoo doing the disappearing double act, but they don’t think much of it.

They never do.

 _Old married couple,_  they think – and it all has started as a joke, starting from when Kyungsoo bought the friendship rings. Except that things are about to get to a different level – and they are still unaware of it.

Kyungsoo and Chanyeol leave hurriedly right after shower, and Chanyeol could barely hide his anxiety – he couldn’t stop fiddling with his ring as he walks to the convenience store; tries to act normal as he picks up packs and packs of condoms, and does not even look at the cashier in the eyes when he pays for the items.

He finds Kyungsoo waiting for him patiently outside the store, looking like a lost little kid under the street lamplight. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Kyungsoo asks; his eyes large and hopeful, his lips curved up in a teasing half-smirk. Chanyeol nods, before taking Kyungsoo’s hand in his and clasps them together.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my whole life,” Chanyeol professes, and Kyungsoo squeezes his hand tighter.

\--

When they properly make love for the first time, Kyungsoo asks if anything’s different physically from the other Kyungsoo – and he asks not out of jealousy, but out of pure curiosity. “You work out more than him,” Chanyeol says, “—so your body is wirier. Toned muscles,” he points, “—here and  _here_ ,” at Kyungsoo’s arms, and abdomen, before his hand travels downwards to caress Kyungsoo’s thighs; Kyungsoo’s calves – “—and here, and here,” he says. Chanyeol leans down and sucks at the skin on Kyungsoo’s calf, down at his Achilles tendon.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Kyungsoo says, before pulling Chanyeol up for a kiss. He turns them over so that he lies atop Chanyeol, holding Chanyeol’s shoulders down with his outstretched arms. He uses his hands to touch Chanyeol all over, and when hands aren’t enough he uses his lips.  “What do you want me to do?” he asks Chanyeol.

“Anything  _you_  want, I want. I’m  _yours_ ,” Chanyeol confesses, and it is all the encouragement Kyungsoo needs before he kisses Chanyeol again, before he presses a finger against Chanyeol’s entrance – “Have you ever done this before?” he asks, just to make sure, and is surprised when Chanyeol says that this is going to be his first time being fucked by someone else. "Do you trust me, then?” Kyungsoo asks; concern painted in his deep, dark eyes.

“I trust you.”

Chanyeol isn’t going to lie – it hurts the first time, despite Kyungsoo’s careful preparation and ministrations – but once his muscles have learnt to accommodate, he feels everything and yet he still wants more. Kyungsoo thrusts as determinedly as he works to polish his dance steps, as focused as he concentrates before each singing performance. And Chanyeol thinks he would never see this side of Kyungsoo – until now, and he’s lucky that way. Kyungsoo wipes the sheen off Chanyeol’s forehead, as the older man struggles to find purchase – he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, his legs, as Kyungsoo enters him again and again – until he decides to wrap his arms and legs around Kyungsoo, enveloping him in a cocoon – and it feels more intimate this way, when they’re pressed against each other, moving in synchrony, as they always do.

 _We always do,_  Chanyeol thinks, starting from the day they realize that their voices suit each other to form a beautiful harmony. And why wouldn’t this be any different? Why would it matter if it’s him who fucks Kyungsoo, or the other way around? He will let Kyungsoo take him tonight, and every night for the rest of their lives, if it means that they could grow old together.

It’s early days yet, and probably marriage is out of the question – but Chanyeol thinks he could live like this –

As long as Kyungsoo is by his side.

_I could live like this._

\--

On the first day of summer, Chanyeol will barge into the hotel bedroom he shares with Kyungsoo in Venice, overlooking the canals and the quaint buildings and majestic churches, and he will point his camera at Kyungsoo’s face as he begins to wake up.

“Morning,  _hyung,”_  Kyungsoo will tell the man behind the camera – and his chest will softly rise up and down with every breath he takes. The camera will zoom to his eyes, his nose, his lips, before panning out again. Kyungsoo will be Chanyeol’s focus in the frame, and nobody else. “G’morning, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol will reply, with a voice that could only suggest a bubbly, sparkly smile. “What would you like to tell the audience this morning?”

“I would like to tell the audience that...” Kyungsoo will pause, thinking, his voice still croaky and his mouth cottony from sleep. “I’m a huge fan of Park Chanyeol and I’d like to meet him in person,” he will respond wittily.

“What would you tell him if you were to meet him in person then, eh?” Chanyeol will ask, mischievously.

“I’m his number one fan?”

“Uh-uh....”

“I’ve listened to all the songs he has written and I love them?”

“Uh- _uh_ ,” Chanyeol will nod absentmindedly.

“I love him,” Kyungsoo will reply, short and sweet. As determined as it is certain.

 “You love  _him_ ,” Chanyeol will say incredulously, brows furrowed in amusement.

“I love  _him_ ,” Kyungsoo will admit – blush creeping up his neck, his cheeks, “—but I love him more when he’s just plainly my boyfriend.”

“Tell the audience that, then.”

“I love my boyfriend, Park Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo will say, with a perfectly straight face.

Chanyeol will think that he’s seen all this before, in another life, in another time – but he’s never experienced it, until now.

There will be days when he thinks about the other Chanyeol, the other Kyungsoo – and wonders if they are as happy as he is at this very moment, when he is with Kyungsoo. He wishes them the best, and he hopes for the best.

_For them._

He looks at Kyungsoo, who smiles sweetly back at him – and he thinks,  _for us._

And now is all that matters. And now, and  _now._

As long as Kyungsoo is  _here._

_Now._

Chanyeol is  _happy._

_\--_

_.end_

_\--_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) My brain is fried. This chapter is MASSIVE. 
> 
> 2) This story is heavily influenced by kathkin’s The Wrong Trouser-Leg of Time, which is AMAZING and you should all check it out, even if you guys aren’t fans of Merlin. Seriously.
> 
> 3) The title of this fic is taken from a line from TS Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, and so are the titles of each chapter.
> 
> 4) Some of the events which occurred in the fic are partly based on real-life stuff – like the alleged couple rings, Chanyeol’s mom’s restaurant (Viva Polo), stuff they mentioned in interviews (Kyungsoo being reserved around new people, Chanyeol’s attempts at pranking Kyungsoo, kimchi spaghetti)
> 
> 5) The line ‘O God, You've done enough, You've robbed me of enough, I'm too tired and old to learn to love, leave me alone forever,’ is directly lifted from Graham Greene’s ‘The End of the Affair’.
> 
> 6) The main theme songs (to me, at least) while I’m writing this fic are Moonlight and Miracles in December, because, guys. The feels. Especially in the MID MV, when Chanyeol is looking at the rings on his finger. And Kyungsoo waiting alone in the kitchen. It. Hurts. Like. Hell. Also, don’t get me started on Moonlight. That song brought me to another level of feels.
> 
> 7) A quick reminder that there is an 8tracks playlist (http://8tracks.com/incendiarywit/and-time-yet-for-a-hundred-indecisions) for this fic. Yep. Give it a bash, guys :DD
> 
> 8) THANK YOU. Thank you for being part of this journey. Thank you for spending time to read this fic. I'll try to write more EXO fics in the future, esp Chansoo -- and guess what?
> 
> 9) I'm already planning to write a fic about the other Chanyeol and the other Kyungsoo. About how they first met, from the vomiting incident to their marriage, to what happened to the other Chanyeol when he went through the crack in space and time. Are we good? We're good, right? :D


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